


Harry Potter and the Indigo Child

by Edens_Spilled_Ink



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry, Abusive Dursleys, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Animal Abuse, Arson, Attempted Murder, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Care of Magical Creatures, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Coming of Age, Drug Dealing, F/M, Falling In Love, First Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Growing Up, Idiots in Love, Illegal Activities, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Little bit of angst, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mentions of Underage Non-Con (Negatively Portrayed), My First Work in This Fandom, Past Cedric/Harry, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Running Away, Soulmates, Substance Abuse, Tagging Triggers at the Beginning of Chapters, Teen Romance, Underage Substance Use, Work In Progress, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edens_Spilled_Ink/pseuds/Edens_Spilled_Ink
Summary: Harry Potter is sick of being the Boy Who Lived, of being a bystander in his own life. He’s sick of having to save everybody’s lives every year, sick of being locked up all the time, sick of the media slander, sick of the incompetent Ministry of Magic - but most of all, he’s sick of being helpless.Joel Lincoln is an outrageously bad influence, a muggle with a smirk that screams “punch me”. He’s jaded, he’s interesting, he’s cunning and sharp witted - and he’s on his way back to New York, escaping St Brutus’ disciplinary institution over Winter Break.Their worlds collide during the weeks of winter vacation and they’re drawn to each other almost immediately, becoming inordinately close. After an eye opening experience, Harry decides to join his new friend Joel as he makes his way to America until he’s of age - his only intention carving out a life for himself where he has a semblance of freedom before it’s too late: but what he finds is so much better.Join Harry and Joel as they are thrown into the deep end of adult life while saving enough money to start again in New York, face a new and dangerous enemy, and fall in love. Will they find happiness, or will their pasts consume them?





	1. Something Evil

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up! This chapter contains mentions of abuse, homophobic slurs, drowning and child death - you’ve been warned.

The ‘80’s Corvette was the meanest looking car Joel had ever seen, a vibrant blue with a large hood, a streamlined design, and an “88” written delicately on the side in white. He made a soft, humming sound with his mouth as the car vibrated from the force of it’s engine, trembling as the firetruck-red Camaro Z-28 did expert donuts around it, dragging it’s tiny plastic wheels against the carpet at odd angles and almost growling. Cross-legged behind the audience of his sister’s barbies, he clenched his hands: if the Corvette was mean, the Camaro was down-right vicious.

Slowly, the racers rose high into the air, snapping and biting like hungry dogs. The subtle ringing in his ears almost drowned out the murmur of voices and the clattering of dishes downstairs, his eyes straining and his head throbbing as the cars sped off across the room to join the others, engines shaking violently with anticipation. 

Joel rose to his feet, clutching the newest edition of Car Magazine to his chest. “Ready-” The ringing in his ears got louder, “-set,” the cars began to rock back and forth as lighting-like shocks surged through his tiny frame.

“Go!” He shouted, and as if a spell had been cast the cars went, all at once but at different speeds, racing around corners and hitting each other out of the air as Joel watched from below, jumping up and down as the ringing grew loud enough to block out anything else.

All of the others lay diguarded on the ground, proven useless by the biggest race of the season. Neck and neck, the Corvette and the Camero raced around the room at ungodly speeds, so fast Joel’s trained eyes could barely follow them. They threw toys off of the shelves and knocked each other into walls - desperate and clawing their way to the finish line. At the final lap, Joel held his breath.

Then, just like a real life comic book in the middle of his very own room, the Camaro flew directly into the Corvette - knocking the toy out of the air and sending it flying to the ground.

“And the crowd goes wild!” Joel wailed a little too loudly as the Camaro crossed the finish line in a blur, screeching to a halt midair as the Corvette laid below, wheels up on the carpet in solemn defeat, the stands total anarchy while the audience jumped and hugged and shook their fists at the winning car.

“Joel!” Hollered Mrs. Anderson from downstairs.

And just like that it was over, the Camaro dropping right out of the air and the room falling painfully still. The only thing left with any life was Joel, who slowly made his way out of his room to the top of the stairs and briefly wondered if he was in any trouble.

Mrs. Anderson chuckled. “Get your little butt down here and set the table, dad says breakfast’s nearly ready!” She hollered, and she didn’t have to tell him twice. One moment he was upstairs and the next he was racing to the kitchen, Camaro flying expertly into his jeans pocket and behind him the room cleaning itself up.

Morning was his favourite time in the Anderson household. Warm sun bathed the windows, the small kitchen bustling and voices light, the smell of bacon and coffee filled the house with a warm, homey feeling he’d only ever experienced in the Anderson’s quaint little cottage of a house that all the housewives gawked over at dinner parties.

Faster than Mrs. Anderson could greet him the table was set he was sat down at the table, quietly content and out of the way.

“Why we having pancakes, mama?” June blurted rather rudely as her mother loaded up the top of her stack with fresh fruit from their homegrown bushes, whip cream, and maple syrup. She was a tall girl, awkwardly so for her age - but she supposedly got that from her mother. She hadn’t quite lost her all her baby fat yet either, tanned skin covered with dark freckles and long brown hair combed and elegantly braided back and over her shoulder by her mother, just like it was every morning.

Mrs. Anderson smiled, nervously glancing at her husband at the stove. “George?” She prodded in the same Georgia sweet-peach accent her daughter had inherited.

Mr. Anderson smiled first at his wife, then his daughter as he snatched the bacon out of the oven with nothing but a wet washcloth for protection. “We’re celebratin’ with a special breakfast ‘cause it’s a special day, Junie Bo-boonie,” he said with a deeper, more tractor hum like southern accent - the kind that made Joel think of the westerns is last parents watched for hours, drooling and dead-eyed as they repeated line after memorized line. He shivered.

“What special day? It’s not Joel’s birthday or nothin’, is it?” June drawled, and at the mention of his name Joel perked up, looking around the kitchen with wide, dinner plate eyes. 

He’d always looked a little goofy, though - and he’d heard about it often enough. Too tiny to shop for, t-shirt extending way past his hips and pant legs rolled up and tucked into his shoes. He was a ghost compared to the Anderson’s too, so much so even the sun streaming through the kitchen window reflected on his pale skin like a lense flare, his eyes sunken in like the dead and black hair wild and sticking up at odd angles. 

Mrs. Anderson chuckled softly. “Might as well be,” she hinted as she loaded up their plates with bacon, delicately placing the used cookware beside the sink for later and joining her family at the table to scarf down the big, hearty breakfast.

“We got big news!” Mrs. Anderson announced after grace, still gripping her husband’s hand under the table.

Joel paused mid-chew to study them for a moment, their unusual behaviour triggering some primal defense mechanism that remained dormant in the back of his brain for the past two years he’d haunted the Anderson home. Unnervingly, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson stared back - manically happy smiles plastered underneath fixated eyes. Slowly, he turned his gaze and caught June’s, relieved when she seemed just as confused as he was.

He turned back to Mr. and Mrs. Anderson with new found suspicion, swallowing his last bite and knocking his chair to the ground as he backed away from the table. “You’re not sending me away, are you?” He accused more than asked, the clash between the Georgian sweet-peach air and his New York voice ugly.

 

“‘Course not!” Mrs. Anderson said instantly, jumping out of her seat and pausing abruptly when she caught Joel’s violent flinch. Slowly, she moved around the table and lowered herself to her knees to take his tiny hand in hers. “You got no need to worry about that again, okay hon?” She assured him gently, looking him in the eyes as her voice wavered. “You get to stay here, if you wanna.”

“For how long?” Joel asked hopefully, voice shaking. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be. It was impossible - he was almost at double digits. He looked to Mr. Anderson, who seemed just as choked up as his wife.

Mr. Anderson smiled, “We’ll all go down ‘morrow to file the papers, make a day of it. Mom and I filled ‘em out already,” he explained. “‘Morrow you’re officially an Anderson.”

The promise hung in the air as Joel scanned their expressions, but, try as he might, he found no hint of mockery, lie, or sarcasm. Quicker than he expected, his shoulders relaxed as the weight of uncertainty slipped off his back. It was like a daydream - he wrapped his arms around Mrs. Anderson just to prove that this was real, wet sobs escaping his tiny chest while she comforted him.

 

 

Joel was still convinced he was dreaming by the time afternoon rolled around, standing in the Anderson’s kitchen once more. “Now, y’all share these, ya hear?” Mrs. Anderson said, “I know that Darren boy doesn't have ‘nough at home, so I packed him a sandwich - make sure he eats it, boy’s skinny ‘nough as it is,” Mrs. Anderson instructed as she put about half a box worth of chocolate chip cookies in a freezer bag, placing them with the rest of their lunch in Joel’s brand new backpack. “And if little Sammy’s mom has anything to say about the cookies coming in a box, you tell her that when she starts supplying snacks for y’all she can pick what y’all eat - but make sure she knows the words came outta my mouth, yeah?”

Joel nodded vigorously, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with nervous tension. “You can count on me, Mrs. Anderson!”

“Does Joel really have to tag along, ma? We do enough, yeah?” June sighed, arms crossed.

“If you don’t want Joel to come along, you can sit your little but down in your room and stay home,” Mrs. Anderson said in a no-nonsense tone.

June stomped her foot, “But-” she started.

“No buts!” Mrs. Anderson bit, “And I don’t ever want to hear you talk ‘bout your brother like that again,” she scolded protectively without so much as a glance in June’s direction, “Not only is it unlady-like - it’s down-right rude, and it’ll earn you a right spankin’ young lady. Got it?” She warned, zipping up the star-speckled backpack with a little more force than necessary.

“Uh-huh,” June replied, rolling her eyes. Defeated.

Mrs. Anderson pretended not to notice June’s attitude as she turned to them, the corners of her mouth curled into a soft smile that went right up to the corners of her eyes as she stood back and inspected them for a long moment. Humming in satisfaction, she held the bag out to them on one finger. “Now y’all have fun with your friends! I don’t wanna see ya home before supper, though, understand? If you’re out, you’re out,” she reminded them.

“Got it!” Said June as she snatched the backpack out of her mom’s hand and ran off to meet their friends on the front lawn, Joel close behind her.

“And I don’t want to hear anything about y’all going anywhere near that river, water’s too high!” Mrs. Anderson’s worried voice echoed after them.

Joel squinted his eyes at June as he snatched his new backpack from her grubby fingers, mounting his bike and shoving a cookie in his mouth. “Wouldn’t dream of it!” He yelled back over his shoulder, mouth full of crumbs.

 

 

Sam gripped the rope as tightly as he could and flew at least ten yards across the raging river as if he’d been thrown, only to land safely on the other side. “See, easy!” He yelled back at his friends, tossing the rope back and wiping his fogged, cracked glasses on his cotton t-shirt.

The rope swung to Joel, who caught it so it wouldn’t end up lost in the middle of the river and immediately regretted it.

“Your turn, Joel!” Darren grinned cockily - he could get anyone to do whatever he wanted and he damn well knew it.

Darren had just started middle school - which automatically meant he was a legend. On top of that he was eleven, the oldest one in their friend group and a full two years older than Joel - and at least a foot taller with short blond hair and the brightest grey eyes Joel had ever seen in his life.

“Me?” Joel replied, his breath caught in his throat and stomach uneasy - Darren never talked to him, always June. “Jee, I don’t know if I can, D, that’s awfully far,” he said honestly, his toes brushing the edge as he stared down at the raging current just a short distance below.

“Don’t be such a queer!” Darren teased, eyes narrowing as he loaded his slingshot with a nearby rock and pulled back the elastic. “Go, or I shoot ya. Simple,” he threatened with a smirk.

Joel’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Darren like that, fired up and angry about something that wasn’t him. What was it this time? “I am not a queer!” He squealed instead of asking.

“Oh?” June chuckled from the trees in her already dirty blue dress covered in cookie crumbs, “You’re the one that was wailin’ to mom in the kitchen this morning,” she laughed.

“Oh my god, you? Cryin’? In front of everyone?” Sam cried out from across the river, his sides splitting with laughter and the curly dirty-blond mop on his head growing messier with each second he wasn’t brushing it out of his eyes. “You really are a queer!”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Sammy-boy - did I tell ya to laugh?” Darren spat before turning to Joel. The short laughter that came out of his mouth sounded like his world shattering and felt like knives. “But yeah dude, that is pretty lame. What are ya, a baby?” He chuckled as he released the elastic, rock hitting Joel’s arm with an audible smack. He let go of the rope and shouted in pain, watching Darren lower his empty slingshot, “I mean ya might as well be, you haven’t even hit double digits yet!”

Joel’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh my god,” Sam shouted obnoxiously from across the river, “he’s gunna do it again!”

A chorus of laughter surrounded him, closing in like those walls that crush people that you see in treasure-hunting movies. He had to look for a new angle, had to find a way out.

Simple as that, something caught his eye, resting in the middle of the river hanging down from the trees above: the rope.

And Joel was gone, a blur as he moved from the river and into the trees, their taunts nipping at his heels. “Great, now he’s runnin’!” June laugh-cried, slapping her knee.

Then, like a torpedo, he emerged from the bushes at a full sprint as if he were racing something invisible. Internally, he called upon the ball of red-hot energy deep in his chest that he felt when when he played with his race-cars or cleaned up the dishes, the power he wielded when nobody else was there to see.

“Come on...” Joel whispered to the dime, tiny by himself but tiny-er as he huddled up and curled in on himself under his quilt in the dark of night. He wanted to do it again, something primal in him curious about the ringing in his ears and the ball of lightning that’d surged through him- more over, he wanted to be able to defend himself if Ms. Chelsey attacked him again, to warm himself in this new and strange place if the cold nip of the outside Brooklyn air made its way into his bones again.

He’d been willing it for hours, from just after dinner to near dawn - and all he had to show for it was a strained headache and a little bit of blood coming out of his ears.

Joel cupped his tiny broken hand, the weight of it reminding him of the importance of a weapon. “Come on,” he whispered again, desperately.

Slowly, the dime slid towards him, inch my inch. The ringing in his ears grew unbearably loud and the lightning coated his fingertips. His wide eyes glowed softly as the dime crawled to a stop at his lap, and as it did so did the fear he felt.

It was like something out of a dream. Blood dripped from his nose over his lips but he was too entranced to wipe it, his eyes clouded until he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face and, finally, as the sun peaked in just over his windowsill, he fell backwards with a smile.

Joel narrowed his eyes as he flew by his friends, his heart beating faster as his footsteps became weightless against solid ground and the sheer power coursed through his veins- or was that adrenaline? He could vaguely hear the worried screams of his peers, but soon the ringing drowned them out as he bent the universe to his will using nothing but nerve. He’d never tried to move himself before - nothing heavier than a paper weight. He could die, he realized, and tried to stop himself too late.

As soon as his feet left solid ground he held his breath, and a moment later he was falling - only an inch, but long enough for him to watch his entire life back again. Then, whatever he had unleashed on the unsuspecting universe propelled him forward with such force he wondered if it was sentient and angry with him. He barely had enough time to grip the rope, the breath he’d been holding knocked out of him when he hit the ground on the other side a thud and raising dust as he started to roll. Finally, he came to a stop at Sam’s old, ripped up shoes.

For a second, his whole world was the ground by Sam’s feet and the rope clutched desperately in his hands, nose dripping blood and vision blurry, but it was only until after the ringing faded he heard the cheering around him

“Oh my god, dude, that was awesome!” Sam shouted, pulling him up with both hands.

Joel beamed as he handed over the rope and wiped his nose on his sleeve, “Sorry for letting it go, some asshole shot me,” he remarked, brushing himself off as he shot Darren a half-hearted glare - and June a toothy grin.

Darren chuckled from the other end of the river, placing a candy cigarette gently between his lips. “So, you got moxie after all.”

Joel’s heart skipped a beat as he basked in Darren’s charming smile, “‘Course I do,” was all he could muster through his trance.

“Ugh, can we give it a rest?” June scoffed, shoving another cookie in her mouth. Sam swung across too, ya know,” she said with her mouth full.

Joel rolled his eyes at her. “You know we were supposed to share those, right?” He reminded, eyeing the crumbs on her dress.

June waved him off, “Oh, shut it! My mom, my cookies - and she ain’t here to defend you now, is she? Plus - I didn’t see you sharing on the way here.”

A red hot anger bubbled up in Joel’s chest, surely Mrs. Anderson was his mother too now, right? “I had two, you’ve had at least ten. Porky!” He shouted across the rushing current of the river.

June looked down at herself, “I’m not any bigger than Sam!” She shouted, but her remark fell on deaf ears. All at once, her friends - that were supposed to be her friends, for your information - joined in cracking jokes about how fat and ugly she was. “Whatever, at least my parents want me!” June shouted, and immediately regretted it the second she saw the look on Joel’s face.

There was a kind of pain in Joel’s eyes that not even Darren teased at, something they couldn’t quite understand yet. She’d said something horrible, she was sure of it - but she couldn’t take it back now, not in front of all of her friends. So, she doubled down. “Oh, don’t flash them puppy dog eyes at me now, you’re the one gettin’ a bunch of brand new stuff and fancy food! Pancakes for breakfast - on a Tuesday? Save it.” She stood and crossed her arms.

Joel snatched the rope out of Sam’s hands so fast it gave the older boy rope burn, and pushed himself off the ledge. Moments later he was on the other side, just a few feet away from June, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “At least my parents aren’t replacing me with a new kid!”

“You. Take. That. Back.” June growled, punctuating each word with a step until they were nose to nose.

“Guys,” Darren cautioned them as Joel circled June like a hungry shark, finally stopping with his back to the trees.

“You really don’t get it do you? You’re so jealous you don’t even see it!” Joel barked, walking slowly towards her. “I need new things because I never got new things before your parents!” The truth spilled out of him like a busted valve, things he’d never said out loud to anyone. “You don’t even realize how lucky you are,” he growled, gesturing to Darren and Sam, “you or your dumb friends! You don’t even get it, the uncertainty of it all,” he hissed. With each step Joel took forward, June took one back until she was only a few inches from the edge, and she had nowhere else to run. 

“Never knowing where you’re going next, what monster you’ll face - no rest, no hugs, no church, no friends - and definitely-” he snatched the freezer bag out of her hands and chucked it behind her into the river below, “-no cookies.”

“Joel,” she said genuinely, reaching out to wipe the tears streaming down his cheeks like she’d seen her mother do when he got like this, wound up and ready to burst.

He flinched back violently, and wiped his tears away himself. I’m sorry, Joel wanted to say, I’m still scared of you and I don’t know why. “Don’t touch me, Porky,” he hissed pompously instead.

June raised her hand and brought it down across Joel’s face in one swift motion. For the first time in a long time, he had to protect himself.

A loud crack echoed through the kitchen as Ms. Chelsey brought her hand across Joel’s unnervingly young face so hard he cried out and fell. “What did I tell you about behaving?” She hissed, bringing her foot down on his hand and pushing down until she heard something snap.

The scream that followed rang through the house so loudly Joel barely recognized it as his own, and he could have sworn that’s what the ringing in his ears was - until it happened.

He thought she’d tasered him, somehow - but the electricity didn’t hurt and, seconds later, Ms. Chelsey hit the fridge on the other side of the kitchen with a thud, sliding down the metal like a rag-doll. It was just like in movies when the bad guy is shot and they slide down the wall, leaving a streak of blood in their wake - but only, Ms. Chelsey was sleeping, chest rising and falling as her head fell forward in her lap and she curled in on herself.

Unnerving silence swallowed the ringing as Joel laid on the cold tile, cupping his limp hand, gaping in awe and horror at what he’d done.

The first thing he registered when he came to was the rushing of the river below, and then the ground underneath his shoes. Almost in slow motion, the cloud that enveloped him seconds ago evaporated and pinched only the sides of his vision as he registered the empty space in front of him where June had been, then the screams of terror from Darren and Sam behind him, tearing through the woods behind him as they ran like hell to the police station, away from the monster that stared down at the river in broken shock.

For a moment Joel didn’t understand it, he couldn’t have pushed her - his hands trembled in the same place they’d been since before all of this and he brought them up, slowly, to to stare at them. His nose bled and his head throbbed but he was too numb to care, watching as June fought the water for mere seconds before the current dragged her under in the time it took to snap your fingers. Just like that, his sister was gone.

The sound of the beating of his own heart in his ears snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. Abruptly, he sprinted alongside the river long past the point where he would of given up in any other instance, feet slamming hollowly against the earth as he ran so fast he heard his footsteps behind him a full second after he’d been there.

Maybe a mile later, as the river was starting to fan out into the town’s famous lake and the current lessened, Joel found her face down in the sand, braid unwravelled and long, wet hair tangled over her face and in her mouth, her dress torn to shreds, skin blue and cold as ice.

Quickly, he turned her over and shrieked uselessly when her chest didn’t rise and fall like it should. “No!” He sobbed, starting to pump her chest like they did in the movies to bring someone back to life. “You can’t,” He whispered, something in him breaking. She couldn’t be dead, not yet. They were supposed to grow up together.

Joel choked on his own tears as he blew into her sandy mouth, her lips purple and cold, no breath meeting his from her damaged lungs. Still, He kept pumping her chest and filling her lungs with air at random intervals, but none of it did any good - he didn’t know CPR, and by the time someone who did found them it was too late.

 

There was something terrible inside him, something evil. He decided this as the paramedics covered June’s corpse with a sheet that stuck to her still-damp skin, Mrs. Anderson weeping loudly over her and clutching the stretcher with white knuckles as it was loaded into the ambulance.

Mr. Anderson stood at a distance, eyeing Joel down as he had a conversation with the sheriff that he couldn’t quite make out. He caught his eyes from across the hustle and bustle, only to be met with the coldest look he’d ever seen. Faster than he expected, tears filled his eyes and he turned to the river in shame, reaching into his jeans pocket and and holding the Camaro Z-28 in the palm of his hand. Suddenly, it seemed less important - like that morning was a distant memory, or a dream. Just looking at the toy made him sick to his stomach and, decision made, he drew his arm back and chucked it into the river, watching it be taken under by the current the second it hit the waves and feeling nothing.


	2. The One Source of Unhappiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, well. Here's the first chapter! Real short (1500ish words compared to the prologue, which was 4000 words) and unbeta-read. Still, though, I think it's fairly good quality. I'll probably end up changing it a little bit later the same way I did with the prologue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slurs, homophobia, child abuse, and food/water deprivation in this chapter. Just a bit of a heads up, ya know?

_“All happy families are alike, but each unhappy family is unhappy in it’s own way.”_ Harry thought he’d read that somewhere at some point. Probably, he pondered, deep in his old elementary school library long past home-time, waiting anxiously by the window for Dudley to give up his Harry Hunting dreams and leave. Still, he thought, it couldn’t be more true - and shortly after that line had entered his life he’d come to a conclusion: for the past 15 years, he’d been the one source of the Dursley family’s unhappiness.

He’d done a lot of thinking lately. Mostly about why on god’s green earth the Dursley’s would have him in their house for Christmas, something he hadn’t been invited home for since he’d first attended Hogwarts when he was eleven. Still, four days until Christmas Day, Harry found himself half-starved in the pews of they’re neighbourhood church beside the Dursley family who adamantly ignored him, the service over and people talking amongst themselves.

“Is that that Potter boy that got into a fight with an officer? I can’t believe St Brutus’ let him leave, with all the trouble he makes!” An elderly woman he’d never seen before remarked, eyeing him down like he was going to knife her any moment. “You folks are saints for taking him in, but shouldn’t they put criminals like him down?”

“I agree wholeheartedly Mrs. Johnson, but don’t worry, the boy’s far too daft to even know where he is - he wont be causing much trouble.” Petunia smiled, moving the conversation in the direction of their mutual neighbours inadequate shovelling job.

“Police officer, huh?” A voice said beside him, startling Harry with an unmistakably American accent. Something sharp and witty (New York?)  with just a touch of southern, if American movies were anything to go by. Harry turned only to be met with a well dressed boy about his age with combed black hair and mischievous honey eyes, he was tall and slim, much taller than Harry, a toothpick hung lazily out of his smirking mouth and one eyebrow raised suggestively. “I’m Joel, nice to meet ya,” Joel introduced, laid back haphazardly with one arm around the back of the church pew and the other in his pocket.

“I’m not a criminal!” Was the first thing to come out of Harry’s stupid, stupid mouth - because it was all he could muster. He said it loudly too, so loudly in fact everybody in the church turned to him with narrowed eyes and hums of disapproval. He hid his blushing face.

Joel chuckled. “You’re adorable, you doing anything after this?”

“ _This is a house of god!_ ” Petunia whisper-yelled from beside Harry, gripping his arm with tremendous strength.

“Woah!” Joel exclaimed, raising his hands, “Sorry ‘bout that ma’m, I thought you’d checked out,” he apologized, before getting a good look at her face. “Hey, you’re Dudley’s ma!”

“What do you know about Dudley-kins?” Petunia snapped, gripping Dudley’s casted arm with her other hand.

“Mum!”  A bruised and broken Dudley whispered seriously, “That’s Joel.”

Harry’s eyes widened and Petunia stopped in her tracks. “ _You_ . You are the _insolent_ child that attacked my Dudley-kins!” She shouted, pulling Dudley and Harry up and into the aisle.

Joel paused for a moment, then smiled. “Let’s be honest, Mrs. Dursley - you can’t sit there and tell me you don’t want to smack the shit out of him sometimes.”

“How _dare_ you. You and your friends beat him half to death! He was defenceless!” Petunia shouted, drawing the attention of the rest of the church. 

“No way, _that_ was your story?” Joel laughed and followed them out into the aisle, pointing at Dudley. “First of all, it was just me. Second of all: I caught this little fuck mugging some kid for, like, the 10th time since I’ve seen his ugly mug - and when I say kid, I mean this 8 year old little beanpole of a boy, probably couldn’t even lift a cardboard box,” Joel explained smuggly, eyeing Dudley down the whole time. “And I walk up like, what the fuck are you doing, amirite? And this little fuck pulls a knife on me-” Dudley’s face started to get redder and redder as his mother looked at him in horror, “- So, I kick his ass.”

Just like that, Dudley leapt forward and threw a right hook that connected squarely with Joel’s jaw, the whole church bursting into a series of whispers. “Think about that the next time you start running your mouth!” Dudley announced, earning a few scattered laughs as Joel poked at the right side of his jaw carefully, smirk thoroughly wiped off of his face and winsing every so often.

Now, that was the mistake. The second Dudley spoke Joel looked up with fire in his eyes and, saying nothing, drew back his hand and socked him one right in the nose. With a sickening crunch Dudley hit the ground so hard and so limp that Harry thought he might be dead for a moment, the whole church falling silent. After a few moments Joel laughed humorlessly, looking around at the crowd.

“So, uh, everybody saw that was self defense, right?” Joel said awkwardly, before turning to a flabbergasted Harry, stealing his eyes from Dudley’s unconscious body. “You okay?” He asked, holding Harry’s eyes with his own and ignoring Vernon who was enraged and yelling at a police officer behind them.

Harry chuckled through his shock, gesturing to Dudley. “Never been better.”

  
  


 

 

 

“You are _never_ speaking to that boy again!” Vernon growled once they’d gotten back from the hospital, Dudley hiding alone in his room without saying a word to anybody. “Not only is he a fag, he’s insane!”

“Yes Uncle Vernon,” Harry responded absentmindedly, smiling to himself as he thought about the way Joel’s fist connected with Dudley’s face. At the crunching sound that echoed in his head, he chuckled softly, shaking his head as he took off his snow covered boots and put them neatly by the door

“Are you even listening to me, freak?” Vernon growled, turning to corner Harry against the wall and noticing his soft smile. “You think its funny, huh? Embarrassing your family in church is funny to you? Don’t you fucking lie!”

“No, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said cautiously. Vernon was definitely more violent around him than he remembered, just as quick to anger but more spontaneously awful than ever. In one swift moment, Vernon shoved Harry so hard he crumpled uselessly against the wall behind him.

“You think _my_ son being assaulted is funny? A 2 ½ hour hospital visit is funny, huh? You think what that boy did to my family is funny?” Vernon screamed until he was purple, kicking Harry over and over until finally Vernon’s foot connected somewhere important in his chest, knocking the wind completely out of him and leaving him unable to breathe.

“Vernon!” Petunia hissed from the bottom of the stairs, list of chores in her shaking hands. “For gods sake, stop it!”

Vernon glanced first at Petunia, then Harry. “I don’t want to see him anymore,” he spat. “Make sure that isn’t an issue,” he demanded as he stepped out.

“Go on and sit down, I’ll fix you and Dudley lunch in a moment,” Petunia called as she dragged a limply fighting Harry, shoving him unceremoniously into the dark confines of his old cupboard - one he hadn’t seen the inside of in two years. As soon as he hit the floor he crumpled, hearing the distinct sound of the deadbolt being locked shut and the echo of receding heels. “What do you boys want to eat?” Petunia’s muffled voice echoed from the kitchen.

By the time Harry could manage any movement it was too late. Still wheezing through bruised ribs, Harry dragged himself onto the cot, curling in on himself to fit and navigating minutes of laboured breath before he fell asleep.

  
  


 

 

Two nights passed before he woke up to a glass of water, deliriously thirsty and desperately exhausted, he drank it like a wild animal. That whole morning he sat with his ear to the door whimpering, listening to the murmur of people in the kitchen for any inclination that they might toss him a piece of toast. Nothing. At around noon he gave up hope and crawled into bed, mind-numbingly bored and searching for a way to ditch his hunger pangs.

  
  


 

 

To the sound of a window opening somewhere in the house, Harry woke from a dead sleep sometime deep in the night, curled up far too tight on the cot in the cupboard.

Crash. “God damn it!” An American voice hissed from the kitchen, a loud clattering noise echoing through the house as he tried to pick up after himself.

“Joel?” Harry whispered horsely. It was a risk, he knew that - in fact, that could be a Death Eater he was talking to, but did he care? His stomach growled loudly and his bored mind clamored for the stimulation of conversation.

“Yeah, from church,” Joel whispered, closer now. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for ages, but your folks keep turning away from the door. Something about a restraining order,” He paused for a moment just outside his door. “Where are you?”

“In here!” Harry whisper-yelled, already sat in front of the door after slipping on a pair of non-magical pajama pants and an old t-shirt he got from Dudley.

“Got it,” Joel said, audibly unbolting the cupboard door and swinging it open, a bright white light so harsh against Harry's eyes it completely blocked his vision for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that Joel vs Dudley smack down? All it's missing is that one kid shouting "worldstar!" in the background. Maybe I'll add that in, at some point. Hmmm. As usual, let me know what you liked! Comments fuel me...


	3. Filthy American

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of Sirius in this Chapter, but a little more in the next one! Edit: 2600 words - wow! Longer than the last one, but not as long as the first chapter. Still, I hope ya'll like it! Haven't been able to find a beta reader yet, but I still think it's decent quality.
> 
> Warning, rape mention!
> 
> Edit: I changed a little bit of the dialogue and stuff to make it feel more organic - so viola, the new and improved version! Who fancies a game of spot the difference?

The first thing Harry saw when he opened his eyes was Joel with his usual smirk, his tattoos visible and hair sticking up at odd angles, walkman clipped to the back of his blue jeans and headphones hanging loosely around his neck - a far cry from his church clothes. “You okay there pal?” The skyscraper of a boy asked , reaching his hand out to haul Harry upright, “How long you been in there?”

“How are you here right now?” Harry slurred instead of answering, delirious and weak from hunger as he stumbled into Joel.

Joel looked at Harry for a moment, unsure of himself. “Your folks said you didn’t want to see me,” he said almost uncertainty, pulling Harry towards him, if only to keep him on his feet. “How long have you been in there?” He asked again.

“It’s not that big of a deal, really,” Harry reasoned, gripping Joel’s large, baggy hoodie as his legs threatened to give out. “Food?” He whispered hoarsely.

“‘Course,” Joel whispered softly. “Do you wanna get outta here? We’ll hit up a McDonalds or something.”

“Can’t leave,” Harry mumbled into Joel’s chest, too delirious to be aware of how stupid looked, “they’ll kill me.”

“Can’t kill ya if you starve to death, bud,” Joel reminded, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Besides, I’ll have you back before they even notice you’re gone,” he pushed, leading Harry into the kitchen.

Harry regarded Joel for a moment, then the open window in front of him, painfully aware that he was sneaking about with what was essentially a stranger that had just broken into his home. Eventually though, his stomach won out. “Alright,” he conceded lamely

“Great!” Joel said, rubbing his hands together. “So, do you want a boost?”

  
  
  
  


One hour and four extra value burgers and a large fries later, Harry began to wonder what he was doing with a stranger in a McDonalds at two in the morning - considering Voldemort was after him and all. That question, however, was immediately answered.

“Oh my god, you saw Stand By Me? I _loved_ Stand By Me, I caught it when it first came out!” Harry gushed.

“No fuckin’ way! Did your folks take you?” Joel asked, leaning in and taking a sip of his Sprite.

“Yeah, they had a free ticket and Dudley’s friend cancelled last minute!” Harry said, taking a bite out of his burger. “Oh my god,” he said around the food in his mouth, “the ‘Chopper, sick balls’ line - I almost pissed myself!” At the mention of it Joel sprayed his drink across the entire table laughing, both of them dissolving into fits of wheezing laughter, the kind that barely makes a sound.

“Oh my god, that movie was hilarious!” Joel shouted, the sound of his voice echoing back at him from the walls of the empty McDonalds. “Innovative too, I mean, it’s always nice seeing kids on tv who ain’t stupid,” Joel remarked. “Still can’t believe it didn’t win an Oscar.”

“I read the original short story, you know. The one by Stephen King?” Harry said, finishing off the last of his burger and washing it down with a drink if Joel’s Sprite.

“You can read?” Joel teased, earning Harry’s disapproving look.

“Asshole! For your information, I used to read - a book a week, in fact!” Harry exclaimed, snacking on their leftover fries.

Joel rolled his eyes. “That is such bullshit! I don’t even think I’ve ever read a whole book!”

“Maybe you’re the one that can’t read,” Harry teased, shooting Joel a mischievous smile. “But yeah, I used to spend a ton of time in the library after school in Elementary - read a lot up until I went to boarding school,” he explained. 

“Why’d you stop?” Joel asked sincerely, leaning closer.

Harry paused, he’d never really thought about that. A flash of stabbing a wand up a troll’s nose in the girls washroom came to mind, vibrant and real. Harry gripped his cup. “I just got busy with other things, I guess.”

“Yeah, I feel ya. St Brutus’ isn’t really well known for taking kindly to smart kids like you,” Joel chuckled.

“St Brutus’?” Harry asked dumbly.

“The school? Remember? Didn’t you go there for beating the shit out of a police officer or something? I had to fight tooth and nail to get them to let me out for Christmas break.”

“You’re from St. Brutus’?” Harry asked, eyes wide.

“You’re not?” Joel replied, equally as horrified.

“You didn’t strike me as a St. Brutus’ type of kid, that’s all,” he tried, but slowly realized he was only making matters worse.

“I broke into your house like an hour ago! - wait, so you’re not from St. Brutus’? But your parents said-” Joel started.

“My Aunt and Uncle, I’m adopted,” Harry explained. “They just didn’t want anyone to talk to me anymore, so they made me out to be some dangerous criminal. Wait, how did you end up in St. Brutus’? I thought that was for ‘ _Incurably_ Criminal Boys’. Like, kill someone criminal,” he questioned, food abandoned.

“Long story,” Joel said curtly, “wait, so where do you go then? Boarding school, right?” 

“I go to this fancy boarding school in Scotland, you’ve probably never heard of it,” Harry said equally as curtly. “Wait, so you’re not going to tell me why you’re in what is essentially Juvy?” He argued, insulted.

“I don’t want to scare you off!” Joel shouted finally. “Shit, this only works if you’re as fucked up as I am!”

For a good second, Harry _was_ scared off - ready to rush right out those doors and walk home. However, after a moment of thought Harry figured that being a wizard was, in fact, more fucked up to the average person than whatever Joel did. “Try me,” he said finally.

Joel paused for a moment and took a sip of his drink. “2 years ago this girl I went to school with, Sophie, told me her step-dad raped her when she was drunk one night. We were partying alone in her room and... She just up and said it,” he explained. “I fucked the guy up pretty bad. Not, like, murder fucked up - but the guy and his lawyer _insisted_ I go to St. Brutus, and the plea bargain my lawyer got me reflected that. Plead guilty and I have to finish my high school with at least a C average in St. Brutus’ instead of being some jail pretty-boy for the next five years in a medium security adult prison. No brainer.”

Harry thought for a moment. “That’s... Not as bad as I thought,” he remarked finally.

“What do you mean it’s _not as bad as you thought_? The guy needed plastic surgery to fix his face!” Joel exclaimed.

“Well,” Harry mused, “I didn’t need to know that detail, but it sounds like you did what you thought was right at the time,” he trailed off, thinking about how how he thought he was doing the right thing by offering to share the cup with Cedric. “Maybe you were just too focused on the good part you were doing to think it through,” he whispered.

“Yeah, actually,” Joel said quietly. “That’s exactly what it was like. I just… I couldn’t see the bad I was doing. Just couldn't. Tunnel vision, I suppose?”

“I get that too!” Harry bursted. “Like, that thing when you can’t focus on anything else? It’s like everything has to be black and white, light and dark - and forget about me changing my mind.”

“Oh, tell me about it! One time, I spent like four hours trying to buy this one tape - I had to go into like ten stores!” Joel said, pushing the last of the fries in Harry’s direction, both of them giggling themselves into silence.

After a few minutes of avoiding each others eyes, Joel finally spoke. “Do you want to get out of here, then? If you’re not already intent on me taking you home…” He trailed off, struggling to meet Harry’s gaze. “I’ll leave you alone after this too, if you want me to. I won’t stalk you or anything - I’m not that kind of criminal, scouts honor.”

Harry smiled gently in reassurance, heart pounding in his chest at the sincerity in Joel’s voice. “You were a boy scout?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, for your information,” Joel said with all of his usual arrogance. “You happen to be looking at a Star scout, almost Life before I left.”

“If you’re trying to impress me, you might want to speak English,” Harry teased, finishing the last of the fries and standing with the tray, waving for Joel to follow him out of the restaurant. “Because I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he said, “filthy American.”

Joel laughed out loud at that. “I’ll throw out the trash,” Joel volunteered sincerely, dumping the contents of the tray into the garbage and placing the tray carefully on top of the bin. “And of course you don’t understand, you Brits are all the same,” he grinned as they walked out of the McDonalds and into the cold night, “At least _I_ can build a fire.”

“ _Trash_ ,” Harry teased briefly in his best American accent. “And you’re going to build me a fire? Where, in the middle of the street? What, do you Americans still live in caves? I wouldn’t be surprised-” Harry stopped in his tracks, Joel pausing confused beside him.

There, in the middle of the street, sat a huge black dog - head cocked and watching Harry intently, then turning to Joel.

“Harry?” Joel asked beside him, staring back at the dog, “Is that your dog?”

“Yeah, Sirius,” Harry said breathlessly, bending down to greet him. But Sirius didn’t pay him any mind, fixated as he stalked slowly towards Joel with bared teeth.

“Well, call him off!” Joel said in a higher pitch than his usual one, trembling as he walked backwards until his back hit the brick. 

“You’re scared of dogs?” Harry said, tone wavering in confusion - then, reality sunk in. “Sirius!” He shouted.

Sirius turned to him, two beady black eyes glinting in the middle of a mound of black fur, and growled.

“Sirius, you can’t attack my friends!” Harry yelled, stepping in front of Joel to block his path. “I’m glad to see you and all, but I can’t just let you maul people!” Sirius only growled in response, head jerking to the left to order Harry to move out of the way.

“Friends?” Joel repeated from behind him.

“Sirius, sit!” Harry ordered, but Sirius didn’t listen, still growling at Sirius behind him. “You thought this was a date?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Well, I was hoping it was,” Joel replied, “I mean, what else would it be?”

Harry blushed red, “I’m not sure now’s the time.”

Sirius seemed to give his head a shake at this, as if almost embarrassed by them.

“Right, of course -” Joel started in a bantering tone, but stopped to jump in front of Harry when Sirius barked rather loudly to get their attention. “Oh shit, I didn’t think this through,” he whispered, staring down the dog with wide eyes.

“I got this,” Harry announced, pushing back in front of Joel.

“Uh, no - I got this,” Joel said rather confidently for a boy that looked about ready to have a heart attack at Sirius’ every breath, nudging Harry out of the way to face the dog alone.

“Excuse me?” Harry asked crossly, jumping in front of him, “I got this.”

 “No, it’s alright. I got this,” Joel argued, stubbornly stepping off the curb and fixing himself in front of Harry.

“I’m not sure you know what’s going on right now,” Harry bickered trying to nudge Joel backwards with his shoulder, but the bigger teen failed to budge.

Joel shouldered him back. “Um, a feral dog just lunged at you? I know all I need to know,” he said, staring Sirius down and pulling his knife from his back pocket, flicking open the blade with ease.

“ _He’s not feral!_ ” Harry defended. “You just carry a weapon around with you everywhere? Real classy. No wonder everybody thinks you’re a criminal,” Harry remarked, arms crossed.

“ _Thinks?_ ” Joel rebutted, “I broke into your house, I _am_ a criminal!” He reasoned. Sirius barked at the revelation - but Joel didn’t give more than a tremble, too focused on Harry to worry about anything else.

“It’s hardly my house, I just _technically_ live there!” Harry bickered.

“Technically?” Joel asked softly, eyes catching Harry’s.

“Technically.” Harry repeated, unwilling to elaborate. “Not to mention you saved my life!” 

Sirius’ gaze softened and he sat, subdued and quiet to Harry’s amazement. Joel didn’t seem to notice, though, for a moment it seemed he was almost lost in Harry’s words - not that he would ever admit to that. “Saved your life?” Joel asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry looked at Joel’s boyish expression, then Sirius’ soft eyes. “Nothing, just… Nothing.” 

“Harry Dursley, I’m sick of you dodging the question. If you don’t tell me about that cupboard this instant, I’m gonna go ask your Aunt and Uncle - and that’s a promise,” Joel threatened.

“I…” Harry paused, looking at Sirius.

 

“Forget about the dog, look at me,” Joel said, taking Harry’s hand in his. “Can you just not be the hero for one second?”

Harry looked down dumbly at their hands, where Joel’s thumb stroked his knuckles in what he supposed was meant to be a calming motion. Then, Harry looked up to meet his eyes. “I was being melodramatic, I promise - they would have let me out before I died. They aren’t kill people criminal, you know?”

Joel looked down at his feet in silence, then he chuckled. “I was hoping it wasn’t what it looked like,” he joked, but he went rigid, fingers clenched tighter around Harry’s hands and jaw unmoveable.

“You don’t have to look so upset - you barely know me,” Harry chuckled to ease the tension, but Joel only let go of his hands, sitting down on the curb.

“It’s not about how well I know you, though! It’s about-” Joel leant forward and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, resting his head in his palms. “You just don’t treat people like that,” he mumbled into his hands, “you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Harry paused at that statement, like he’d just been told the secret of life. Lowering himself down beside Joel, he sat on the curb and tenderly placed his hand on Joel’s thigh.

Joel looked first at Harry’s hand on his thigh, then to Harry with a soft smile. “Thanks,” he whispered, putting his hand on top of Harry’s.

After a few moments of staring at each other, Sirius slowly padded over, resting his head on Harry’s feet in solemn apology and letting out a whine that made Joel jump.

Harry looked at Sirius, who seemed to look up at him with an urgent expression. “I need to talk to my dog,” Harry said without thinking, and only after he said it did he realize how weird it must sound to a muggle, shooting Joel a sheepish look.

Joel stared at him for a few seconds in disbelief. “You’re a strange one, you are,” he said finally, trademark smirk making its way to his face. “Do all of you Brits talk to your dogs?” He asked, standing as he popped a cigarette into his mouth and fished in his pockets for a light.

“Only the handsome ones,” Harry replied, and he thought he heard Sirius snicker. Standing with Joel, he shot Sirius a smile. “Those fags will destroy your lungs, you know,” He remarked to Joel.

“Too late, you already took my breath away,” Joel grinned, winking at Harry as he lit his cigarette.

Sirius couldn’t help but make a half-whining sound that sounded a lot like a wheezing laugh, and Harry shot him an embarrassed glare, blushing furiously. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he tried to say shortly, but he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice as he turned to walk away, head down.

“I’ll get you some more food, then, once I’m done with this cig,” Joel called after him and Sirius.

“Cig? What are you, an animal?” Harry called back, laughing.

“Well - I am a filthy American, remember?” Joel called from behind them, earning a soft chuckle from Harry that only Sirius saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, holy shit. The boys do banter well, don't they?
> 
> Something you don't like, tell me! - Comments are my fuel. Nice comments are welcome too, obviously, I'm just concerned Joel might be a bit unlikable - so let me know!
> 
> Also, side note - I am so overwhelmed by how much engagement this story is getting, thank you so much for all of your support, honestly. Look at me, all choked up! I hope you guys like this chapter, it makes me so happy people are reading and enjoying my work! I have some life stuff to get done because Halloween and my birthday are coming up (November 10th!), as well as some school projects I have to finish up - but I'll update as soon as I can, obviously! - Just don't expect one too soon.


	4. The Night That Started It All Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Mentions of arson, child abuse, rape, homophobia, and attempted murder mentioned in this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was beta-read by my wonderful beta, halfdreaming (https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfdreaming/pseuds/halfdreaming)! Just so you know, this chapter is 5000 words - 1000 more than the prologue! It also contains a little more of our boy Sirius - yay! And some magic, finally.

“How did you even get here?” Harry questioned after they turned into the nearest quiet alleyway. 

Sirius pulled himself to his feet, shaking off the excess dog hair on his skin. “Tonks told Moony she saw you climbing out of your kitchen window with some yank!” He shouted. “Please tell me you didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night with some random guy. Really, you’re better than that. Did you forget _The Dark Lord_ is out to kill you?”

“ _What?_ ” Harry spat defensively, hands on his hips. “Is that why you tried to maul him, because you don’t like him?” He accused. 

“No!” Sirius defended, mortified. “This has nothing to do with Joel! You’re, what, just hanging out at McDonalds in the middle of the night with strangers that broke into your house? He could be a Death Eater for all you know!” He scolded.

“How did you know his name?” 

“What?” Sirius asked, shaking his head in confusion, “That’s not the point here. You ditched your babysitters, nobody Order or otherwise knows where you are right now - do you know how dangerous that is?”

“I never said his name,” Harry whispered, not even bothering to pay attention to anything Sirius said. “Not once did I say his name in front of you. How would you know that?”

Sirius sighed, putting his head in his hands and ruffling his hair, pacing back and forth like a frustrated child. “Of all the times to be observant!”

“ _How?_ ” Harry asked, eyes narrowed behind the round spectacles that made him look oh so much like James.

Sirius sighed, eyes on the ground, “I knew his parents, okay? And believe me - that’s bad blood,” he warned.

Harry was scandalized. “I can’t even believe you’re judging him because of his parents - doesn’t Voldemort do exactly that?” He reasoned.

Sirius chuckled humorlessly, “That is _not_ the same thing,” he growled, “That kid’s going to grow up to be the next Dark Lord - mark my words! I’d kill him myself if Dumbledore would allow it,” he spat. “Now that old git brings him _here_ \- after he set a man on fire? To breathe the same air as _my_ godson? _To endanger you?_ Absolute rubbish!” He ranted.

Harry blinked a few times, “ _Joel set someone on fire?_ ” He whispered.

Sirius caught his eyes, sensing an opening. “He did, Harry. The monster set his foster-father on fire right in his bed - burnt the whole house down while he was inside it,” he explained, clutching Harry’s hands. “He’s a menace, and you need to keep well away from him. I mean it,” he whispered.

Harry fought the urge to vomit and Joel’s voice rang in his head ‘ _He needed plastic surgery to fix his face!_ ’

But then he remembered Sophie, and his blood ran cold. “Maybe he had good reason,” he whispered under his breath, much to Sirius’ horror.

“Harry, don’t be stupid. He set a man on fire! He broke into your house! He’s not some fixable _project_ , he’s a monster!” Sirius shouted, and Harry hoped that Joel had finished his cigarette and gone inside.

“He doesn’t need to be _fixed_ ,” Harry spat, “He’s fine how he is! I mean, I’m an orphaned boy-wizard with a lunatic trying to kill me - do I need to be fixed? Is there something wrong with me? Are you going to kill me too?” He rationalized.

“That’s twisted logic and you know it!” Sirius argued, “You’ve never hurt anyone in your life - let alone set anybody on _fire!”_  

“I killed Cedric,” Harry said without hesitation, eyes fixed to Sirius in the intense silence that followed. 

“No, you didn’t,” Sirius said finally, out of anger when he saw the pain in his godson’s eyes. “Harry…”

“Don’t,” Harry said simply. “I dropped my wand, you know,” he said after a few moments of silent tension.

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Just before Cedric was killed, my scar went off - and I dropped my wand.” Harry explained. “In the time it took for Voldemort-” Sirius cringed “-to speak, I could have killed him right there with one spell and saved _so many_ people - if only I’d just been holding my wand. You’ve seen me in duels, I’m quick enough.” He said it as if he’d memorized it - like reciting a line.

Sirius didn’t know what to say to that. “It’s not your fault - your scar went off, you were in pain.” 

“Who gives a shit if I’m in pain?” Harry spat, Sirius’ eyes widening. “My mortal life ended the second Voldemort killed my parents, and you can’t convince me you don’t know it too!”

“Harry-” Sirius started. 

“I’m a martyr now, just not a dead one,” Harry interrupted. “To everybody I’ve ever met, I’m a ghost. For you I’m the ghost of James, for Snape I’m the ghost of Lily, and to everybody else? I’m the ghost of whoever the baby was that died in Godric's Hollow with his parents,” he hissed. “For now, until the day Voldemort kills me again, I’m nothing but a poltergeist aimlessly wandering around a world that will never let me, just for once, _be a normal teenager_.” He gasped the last few words, pausing to take in the mortified look in Sirius’ eyes.

“And do you know why, Sirius? Why I can’t be a normal teenager?” Harry continued after a moment, taking full advantage of Sirius’ stunned silence, someone being forced to listen to _him_ for once. “It’s because good martyr’s let themselves suffer and die for what they believe in - that’s why they become symbols. Good martyr’s die before they have to see their life stolen right out from under them, their name used and abused until they’re more myth than person,” he said, holding Sirius’ tired eyes. “The difference is: I’m not dead yet. I’m a real person whose death the lot of you have been dragging out for the past _14 years_. Hell, Dumbledore might as well have pinned me to a cross and told me to shut up until it’s convenient for me to die!”

There was a moment of eerie silence, like the still wind in the eye of a hurricane. “You’re right,” Sirius said finally, and Harry exhaled a sigh of relief just to hear somebody admit it, “to some people you are a martyr. But to me you’re just Harry, the same baby that used to sleep belly down on the centre of my chest when I napped on the couch because it was the only way James and Lily could get you to to stop crying when you were teething. You’re the same toddler that I used to have to look for in cupboards because you were such a climber, the same kid that used to ride the vacuum while I cleaned up for James and Lily - who were always exhausted from chasing you around, mind you,” Sirius laughed. “My point is? I knew you before all of this nonsense. Hell, I knew you the second you were born - held you before James did!” He said. “I would lie down in traffic if you asked me to, since the second I held you for the first time in that delivery room. You stopped crying and smiled at me, did Moony ever tell you that?” Sirius blurted, smiling to himself.

“No,” Harry whispered, eyes on his feet.

Sirius smiled. “My point is: I have known and loved you like you were my own son since before any of this, and nothing will take that away - and I’m sure the rest of your friends that know you, the _real_ you, feel the same way.” 

Harry wiped at his eyes and Sirius pulled him to a hug him, gathering him up in a way that made him feel like he had a father. For a second, he was just glad Sirius was there with him on Christmas. 

“I’m just so sick of being locked somewhere all the time,” Harry whispered. 

Sirius nodded solemnly. “You be safe, okay?” He said into Harry’s hair. “That boy’s got bad blood in him, you can’t let him lead you down the wrong road. He can cause some serious damage, that one,” he warned, stepping away. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision,” he said almost uncertainty, making his stance on the matter more than clear.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry looked down at his feet, guilty that he’d spent most of their time together yelling.

Sirius smiled sadly. “I’ve gotta get the go ahead from Dumbledore,” he hissed with distaste, his nose drawing up, “- but the second I do? I’ll be on my way to pick you up. Christmas morning, I’ll be there,” he promised.

“You’re picking me up? To go where?” Harry asked. 

“You thought I was just going to leave you with the elephant and the giraffe? After they locked you in a cupboard?” Sirius seemed livid just talking about it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, softer this time, “You’re way more important to me than any war. I’m getting you out of there - even if it means going against Dumbledore,” he explained with a gentle look.

Harry blushed and purposely didn’t mention anything else about the cupboard in fear Sirius would tell everybody in The Order. “Don’t worry too much about me, I’ll be fine,” he assured Sirius with a smile, “I always am.”

“Knowing you’re probably hanging out with Joel for the next day or so? I’ll be out of my mind with worry - Moony too,” Sirius replied, running a hand through his hair. “God, how am I ever going to explain to him that I didn’t run off with you the second I saw him? He’ll be livid.”

Harry chuckled, “Somebody’s in the doghouse - no pun intended.” 

Sirius laughed out loud at that, “I’ll be sleeping on the couch for weeks!”

Harry pulled him in for one last hug, “Christmas morning?” He said uncertainty.

“Christmas morning.” Sirius echoed with purpose, patting Harry on the back and taking one last look at him. Then, with a grin, Sirius transformed back into a black dog, retreating down the alleyway and only stopping at its mouth to look back.

They exchanged a long look, and then Harry blinked and Sirius was gone.

 _I know I can’t replace you, Prongs._ Sirius thought as he crossed the street about a block down, sprinting full speed towards the portkey he’d left just outside of Harry’s window. _But you have to admit - that was some damn good parenting - even Lily would be proud._

A single snowflake dropped onto his nose though it was a cloudless night - an unlikely display of nature that convinced Sirius that, somewhere in the sky, the Potters were smiling down at him.

  
  
  


By the time Harry had come back into the McDonald's the food was ready, grease wetting the bottom of the bag as Joel shoved it into his hands. “For you,” he exclaimed. “Also I got you, like, six orders of fries since you liked them so much.”

Harry smiled down at the bag and then at Joel, but his happiness faltered when he imagined the boy in front of him standing over a man on fire, screaming in agony. He shook his head, but somehow he couldn’t get the image of honey eyes and flames out of his head - and although he’d never heard them, the screams rang in his ears.

“Are you okay?” Joel asked, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder only to receive a violent flinch in response as Harry backed away from him.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Harry assured him, “The whole dog thing scared me, though - I didn’t know he’d be like that,” he lied through his teeth.

Joel gave him a shaky smile, “Yeah, it freaked me out too - you ready to go?” He asked.

Harry looked to the door and thought about going back to the Dursley’s and slipping back into his cupboard like none of this had ever happened, he thought about forgetting about Joel and what he’d done entirely and never seeing him again, content to live his life as far away from him as possible. He almost ran out those doors and didn’t look back.

Then Sophie popped into his head, scared and used, alone and asking for his help - but he could only imagine Hermione in her place, telling him she’d been violated like that. What would he do? He imagined if it was one of her teachers that did it, or another student - or another _girl_ even - but every time the answer came up the same.

Harry stayed because of that thought, dark as it was, - even if it wasn’t the wisest choice he could have made. He stayed because of all of the monstrous things he would do that he couldn’t imagine himself doing in any other situation. He stayed because he could almost hear his own voice in his ears casting a _Crucio_ , because even thinking about something like that happening to Hermione left such a foul taste in his mouth he could form his lips around the worst spell he could think of - a spell he’d known first hand, a spell he’d only ever seen used by the worst of the worst.

“Where are we going now?” Harry asked finally, decision made as he ate a handful of fries out of the dripping bag.

“You’re adorable when you do that, you know that, right?” Joel chuckled, blissfully unaware of the thought racing through Harry’s head at a million miles a minute. “There’s this bitchin’ rager on the other side of town, real crazy shit. I gotta meet up with some old friends who came into town to see me - but I’m sure they’d be happy to meet you, and you look like you could use a good time.”  
  


 

 

The house looked exactly the same as any other in Surrey from the outside - cookie cutter, blinds drawn, sidewalk perfectly shovelled and Christmas lights blinding. “Are you sure we have the right house?” Harry asked as he stopped to examine an inflatable Santa in a sleigh, leaning forward on his toes to poke Rudolph's red nose.

“What kind of a name is Rudolph, anyway?” Joel whispered to himself from behind Harry, earning quite the attractive snort.

Harry checked the address again as they reached the front step, comparing it to the one written in smeared ink on the back of the McDonald’s recept. “There’s no way this is the right address,” Harry said skeptically, looking from the numbers on the side of the house to the identical numbers in writing.

“Does it look the same?” Joel asked from the front door, arms crossed and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t like that look,” Harry whispered, and then he checked again. “Yeah, it’s the same alright. Are you sure that you wrote it down properly?”

“Only one way to find out!” Joel announced, before ringing the doorbell no less than 20 times in a row. 

“You can’t do that, Joel!” Harry yelled anxiously, pulling Joel’s hand away from the doorbell. “We have to get out of here! What if this isn’t the right house? Oh my god, I am so dead!” He ranted. 

“Well, I’d hope not!” Said a voice with a deep Scottish accent from the door Harry didn’t even notice had opened. Harry, through his undying embarrassment, managed to get a good look at the man who was slouched in the doorway, desperately trying to find his balance. Blond, waxy straight hair and almond shaped blue eyes with scraggily stubble - and toppless, a hint of abs on his skinny abdomen and soaked in keg beer. “Yer okay, now - don’t you fret, you’ve come to the right place!” He announced, grinning. “Joel, what have you done now? The poor lad looks about ready to keel over!”

Joel only laughed, putting an hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I was just joking around, Sean - of course I recognized the shape of your fat head through the window!” He laughed, and Harry shot him a half-hearted glare.

“Not funny, not funny at all!” Harry exclaimed, fighting to stifle a giggle.

“And who might this be?” Sean purred, performing a painfully obvious once over that made Harry blush.

“Harry, Sean. Sean, Harry,” Joel introduced with an unfazed smirk, “Harry, Sean is a close friend of mine from St Brutus’, graduated last year, - which means you should probably steer clear, no offence Sean.”

Sean grinned, at Harry, a sort of hungry look in his eyes. “None taken,” he said with a hint of pride in his voice, “Welcome to my humble abode - mi casa su casa,” he said as he leant in to shake Harry’s hand. Only, after he leant in, he just kept on walking until he made his way down the steps and into the bushes - where he began to retch. With all the confidence in the world he raised his hand to wave them into the party, not even looking up.

Harry shot Joel a horrified look, but the boy only waved it off. “Keg beer,” he explained simply, putting a hand on his back and turning him, “shall we?” He asked as they walked through the mahogany doorway, taking care to close the door behind them.

Walking into the party was like walking into a concert, the music from the boombox so loud his ears popped and the smell of cheap beer and skunk so strong he had to breathe through his mouth, eyes clouded with smoke. “Did you guys get a smoke machine?” He shouted to Joel over the music, everyone in the immediate vicinity laughing hysterically at his question.

“You’re funny!” A drunk girl slurred from somewhere in front of him, but Harry didn’t get a good look at her face before she kissed him on the mouth and stumbled off somewhere into the crowd. His nose crinkled and he wiped furiously at his mouth, Joel laughing out loud beside him, wheezing at the look on his face.

“That was…” Harry started, but then he locked eyes with Dudley from across the room, and his heart dropped. “I gotta go,” he said abruptly, half-jogging away from Joel’s side.

“Where are you going?” Joel shouted, but Harry didn’t even bother answering - a deep dread rising in his chest and collapsing his lungs with every second he got closer. 

“Please don’t tell my parents, they’ll murder me,” was the first thing Dudley said when Harry reached him, swaying on his feet slightly and a spaced out look in his eyes. 

“Are you drunk?” Harry asked, “You seem different.”

“Listen, man,” Dudley slurred, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder only to receive a flinch, face dropping at the sight. “I’m sorry about my parents - they suck,” his eyes darted to the hollows of Harry’s cheeks that always deepend during his visits to the Dursley home. “Is that Joel you were hanging with?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered hesitantly, remembering the anger in Dudley’s eyes when he socked Joel in the jaw just days ago.

“He’s a scary guy, you know that right?” Dudley said cautiously, before leaning in closer to whisper. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s weird you’re a fag and all - don’t give me that look, of course I knew, I’m not as dumb as I look - but I still don’t want you in a rough spot, y’know? And don’t you dare tell Dad I said that, either.”

Harry chuckled awkwardly, eyes darting to the floor. “You’re definitely drunk.”

“Maybe,” Dudley agreed, falling back onto the leather couch with the rest of his gang, all staring up at Harry like starving dogs.

“So you’re not going to tell your parents I snuck out?” Harry asked into the awkward silence, eyes on his feet.

“Tell ‘em, Dudley!” Dennis shouted from beside Dudley, bouncing up and down on the cushions.

“Yeah!” Gordon agreed, “I bet he’ll get into way more shit than you will!”

“I agree with dumb and dumber,” said Malcolm, always the cruelest of the bunch. “No way you’ll get in shit if you tell the folks he kidnapped you or somethin’, your mum will believe that one,” he added, a tone of amusement in his voice. “They’ll kill him.”

Dudley spoke up at that, clearly disturbed, “Well I don’t know if we want-”

“And what would that do?” Piers interrupted, the whole gang turning at the sound of his voice. “I mean, the guy’s off at boarding school most of the time anyway, it won't help us one bit - and this is beneath us now, regardless. No, if we want to go big time? We’re going to have to play big time, no more of this Harry Hunting bullshit.”

“OY! Who ever said Harry Hunting was bullshit?” Gordon spat, standing up. “You don’t let us have fun anymore!” Harry flinched at that.

“I said it! It’s bullshit!” Piers yelled, drawing the attention of some of the other partygoers. “It’s childish, and we’re not children anymore you imbecile.”

“Who you calling an im-bec-ile?” Gordon growled. “You’re not even the leader!” He shouted, shoving Piers backwards into the wall, “Dudley, tell ‘em we’re throwing the pipsqueak under the bus.” 

Everybody turned to Dudley, who swallowed and turned to Harry for help. 

“‘arry?” Sean’s voice echoed gently from behind him, significantly more sober than earlier. Harry spun around in one fluid motion, letting out a sigh of relief. “These idiots bothering you?”

“Not all of them, no,” Harry smiled, looking down at his feet.

Sean stepped by him, though, all gentleness quickly gone from his eyes. “‘arry is a valued guest here, boys,” he warned with an uneasy smile, and Harry knew something was wrong “What gives?”. 

“Se-Sean…” Gordon stuttered, eyes wide.

“We were just playing around, boss,” Piers covered meekly, stepping in front of Gordon. “Harry’s our friend, Dudley’s cousin. Right Dudley?”

“Uh huh!” Dudley agreed instantly, trying to syfile his shaking hands. 

“Bullshit!” Harry shouted from behind them, surprised by the power of his own voice when everybody turned to look at him. “They were just arguing about… About…” He trailed off, quickly realizing just how much he didn’t want all these people to know about his home life. 

“About snitching on him!” Somebody from the audience shouted, stepping forward. “I heard that one-” The girl pointed to Gordon “-talking about throwing him under the bus!”

Sean stared Gordon down, the boys defences going right through him as if he were a ghost. Then he turned, looking Harry straight in the eyes. “Is that true, Harry?” He asked. 

Harry hesitated for a moment, eyes on Gordon - who smirked, as if he’d already gotten away with it. His jaw clenched. “Yes,” he said finally.

In one fluid movement there was a gun in Gordon's mouth, the rage in Sean’s eyes indifferent to the boys whimpering - unremorseful even when the kid wet himself. “You’re gonna need more than a few stitches, pretty boy,” he growled, the quiet of his voice somehow louder than the rest of Gordon’s friend’s pleading in the silence of the room. Harry shook from the sidelines, eyes wide and adrenaline pumping at the sight of the first gun he’d even seen in his life.

“DON’T!” Harry shouted, and then there was silence.

“Don’t?” Sean echoed, a click as he turned off the safety. “Why not? What’s to stop ‘im from going to the cops? What’s to stop this little punk from throwing us _all_ under the bus? No,” he laughed. “He dies.”

“Witnesses,” Harry reasoned, heart racing and eyes on Gordon, who nodded for him to keep going. “If you kill him here or he gets dragged somewhere else and turns up dead, all of these people saw you shoot him or give the order. One loose end is better than one-hundred.” 

Where’s Joel when you need him? Sweat flooded the palms of Harry’s clenched fists, eyes fixed on Sean’s trigger finger, which tightened and then relaxed as the blond let out a long, humourless laugh. “So yer a smart one after all. Don’t worry hon, that was a bit of a joke - ‘at’s all. Just wanted to see for myself how well you do thinkin’ on your feet,” Sean chuckled, taking the gun out of Gordon’s mouth and clicking the safety on. Gordon cried in relief, bolting straight out the door and into the street without even grabbing his coat. “Consider it an initiation,” he said.

Harry nodded and gave an awkward chuckle, the terror in Gordon’s eyes burned forever into the backs of his eyes. “Yeah, an initiation,” he said hesitantly.

  
  
  
  
  


After a few shots Harry started to think that maybe it was just a joke - a sick, awful, terrible joke. As his thoughts all blurred together he seemed to forget, and it helped that everybody else seemed to forget too, the party a blur of colours and music and voices once.

Sean placed his hand on Harry’s thigh and pushed another shot towards is his lips, encouraging him to drink another as he chatted aimlessly about the game with some of his friends. Harry could barely hear what they were saying, however, their voices muffled as though they were underwater. Instead, his eyes kept wandering to the gun nudged into Sean’s waistband.

“Harry, let’s go. Now.” Joel demanded with absolute clarity, pulling Harry up by the elbow. “Didn’t I tell you to steer clear of him?” Joel whispered harshly into his ear, and Harry blushed at his own stupidity. “I go to settle some business for _five_ minutes and you end up shitfaced, hanging with this fuck up!” Joel gestured to Sean.

“Oy!” Sean growled, standing up. “Don’t take what doesn’t belong to you, Joel. Didn’t you learn that lesson? I was just showing you poor sheltered friend here a good time!” He spat.

“Are you really comparing this to the pencil incident?” Joel growled, pulling Harry behind him. “That was one time - and I was going to return it, for your information!”

Sean waved in his entourage, two large men that stepped in front of him with ease. “You got your ass kicked for that, and you’ll get your ass kicked for this too,” he growled. “Now quit yer instigatin’ before I have to withdraw my _generous_ gift.”

“What?” Harry slurred, suddenly lightheaded.

Joel’s face fell, eyes on the ground. “I’m not instigating, Sean. Sorry if it came off that way. All I wanted to say is that-” he turned to Harry, locking eyes “-he’s a person and he can decide who he hangs out with, that’s all.”

Sean looked at Joel for a moment, and then let out another humourless laugh. “You’re right, he _can_ make a decision for himself. ‘arry?” 

 _Take me with you._ He tried to shout, the world spinning around him _Joel, you were right - I should have stayed away from him. He’s insane, absolutely insane._

“Go away, Joel,” Harry growled to his horror, turning to Sean on one foot - a movement he had no control over. “Why would I want to hang out with some freak? Some faggot following me around, hitting on me? Gross!” He spat in a voice so unlike his own it made his stomach turn.  He pushed his way past the fuzziness from the alcohol, desperately trying to recognize whatever had taken control of him.

‘ _The Imperius Curse, Harry - pay attention,_ ’ Hermione’s voice echoed from a lecture he didn’t remember.

‘ _Yeah, Harry - you gotta throw it off._ ’ Ron’s voice echoed. ‘ _Tip Joel off, he’ll get you out of here._ ’ 

‘ _You can trust Joel,_ ’ Sirius grumbled, ‘ _Just this once._

“You hear that, Joel?” Sean said with a smirk, and Harry leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the wand in Sean’s boot, desperately trying to hint at it to Joel - only for the spell to force him back to Sean’s side. “Get lost.”

“Yeah, get lost,” he hissed, tears flooding the corners of his eyes. 

Joel looked at Sean, then to Harry. “You really feel that way?” He asked hesitantly, a hurt tone to his voice.

 _No._ “I said it, didn’t I stupid? I’m not going to tell you again. Get. Lost. You. Creep. You think I didn’t notice you circling me like a vulture circling a wounded puppy? Trying to take advantage of me like the little freak-pedophile you are? - Get help,” Harry shouted, drawing the partygoers’ eyes to him once again. “I mean, you thought I was that stupid? That I didn’t notice your... Disease?”

“No!” Joel defended, eyes wide and filled with tears. “It was never about that, Harry - I promise.” He tried to explain, only to be met with cold silence. “I’m not a freak! I just… I… I’m not even a fag, I swear! Come on!” Joel tried to explain, looking around at all of the people staring him down with rage in their eyes. “I just wanted to help, I’m not a creep!”

 _I know you’re not._ Harry thought, desperately trying to overthrow the curse despite the floaty feeling that impaired his every move. _This isn’t me, Joel!_

Dudley stepped out from the crowd, confused. “Why are you being such an asshole?” He asked over the angry shouts of “creep” from the crowd, but he backed down at Sean’s glare.

“I’ll just go, alright!” Joel shouted, silencing everybody else. “Don’t you ever think about talking to me again after what you pulled here, I’ll fucking kill you!” He shouted, tears stinging at his eyes as he ran outside, Dudley on his heels. In the cheers that followed, somebody closed the door behind them - and they were gone. 

“Who’s comin’ to save ya now?” Sean whispered into his ear, hand on his back as he slowly but surely led him up the stairs and way from the party. Harry only stared at the ground as he walked without resistance, getting more and more ill by the second. “You’re friends are gonna pay one pretty penny for you, pal.”

“Help,” Harry managed to mumble, weak from overthrowing the curse and alcohol sill clouding his brain.

Sean only gave him a chuckle, “You’re a tough one, ‘arry Potter,” he laughed, recasting the curse wordlessly with the flick of his wand.

  
Harry’s heart sunk. _Joel, come back,_ He thought before the door opened and shut behind them, door locked at the flick of Sean’s wand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll liked that chapter! A Kudos/Comment is always appreciated as well as additional betas for the team! Another thank you to Half for making this chapter not bad, which is always a plus.
> 
> Edit: I’d like to clarify that the reason Harry can’t throw off the Imperius Curse in this Chapter is because he’s extremely drunk. Sorry, I tried to make it as clear as I could without telling (show don’t tell and all that), but I see now that I probably should have written it a little more clear! :)


	5. The First Time They Met/Christmas’s With The Potters (Bonus Christmas Chapter!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of marauders action in this bonus Christmas chapter! James being a great dad is my kriptonite.
> 
> A/N: This chapter is unbeta read because I didn’t want to bother my lovely Beta on the holidays, so just enjoy as is! xoxo

“James!” Remus and Lily shouted in unison from beside the tree where they delicately hung colourful glass ornaments from pine branches.

James took the candy cane out of his mouth, shoving it behind him as he sat, staring back at them, wedging it between him and the couch. “What!” He tried to say innocently, but his smile gave him away.

“You know you’re not supposed to eat those, they’re for the tree!” Scolded Lily, leaving Remus to attempt to reach the top of the tree on his own to place the star. “And you,” she rounded on Remus, who put the star behind his back and smiled sheepishly. “Harry puts the star on top of the tree!”

“You seem stressed,” James chuckled, walking forward and bringing Lily in for one of his world renown hugs.

Lily glanced at Harry, his curious hands already tearing at the bow on one of the presents (shaped like a miniature broomstick, presumably from Sirius) on top of the stack beside the tree before Remus shooed him off, occupying him with one of his many rattles. “I want it to be perfect, James,” she whispered lowly. “I want his first Christmas to be perfect because,” Lily paused. “Honestly, we might not have another Christmas with him again.” 

James paused, stricken with deep fear. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” he whispered.

“It’s true,” she argued.

“That doesn’t mean you should say it,” James argued back. “We’re just going into hiding, it’s not the end of the world. Dumbledore wouldn’t let anything happen to us - or Harry.”

“I’m just scared, James,” she sighed, watching as her son shook the wand-shaped rattle in the same V formation he’d seen his mother do thousands of times when she washed the dishes. Or, well, when the dishes washed themselves. “I want it all to be perfect.”

“It will be, we’re together on Christmas - that’s what matters,” Remus piped up from where he was behind the tree, attempting to plug in the lights. 

Lily smiled, leaning closer into James when she stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly, she pulled the candy cane from his back - where it was stuck to his shirt. “You’re so gross!” She laughed. 

“But you love me anyway,” James exclaimed, eyes wide and unprepared as Lily pulled him into a kiss, then stuck the candy cane in his mouth.

As they were laughing at James wiping at his mouth, there was a single knock on the door. Then two. Then four.

“That’s the knock!” James said, breaking the silence as he dragged Lily over to the door in excitement. “Sirius is here!”

“Sometimes I think you’d rather be married to him,” Lily rolled her eyes.

“Pft, Don’t be ridiculous. I’d rather be married to both of you!” James announced as he opened the door, only to be met with a screaming child.

“He’s a little monster,” Sirius pleaded as he shoved his way in, the toddlers hand in his, “hasn’t stopped crying all week!”

“Sirius, be honest with me: did you steal a child?” Lily asked, hands on her hips.

“No, he was a gift,” Sirius said sheepishly as he attempted to shove Harry’s pacifier into the strange toddler’s mouth.

“No!” James shouted in his overprotective-dad voice, grabbing back the pacifier. “From who, Santa Claus? Where on god’s green Earth did you get a kid?” 

“This is Joel, that miracle baby I was telling about you about,” he explained. “I’m taking care of him until his mother gets back from Paris, something about ‘hiding him in a place no one would look’. Now, please, get him to stop screaming!” He yelled as he shoved Joel towards James and plugged his ears.

“You can’t just bring a random kid here!” Lily shouted, “It’s Harry’s first Christmas!”

“It’s Joel’s first Christmas too, his parents refuse to celebrate it,” Sirius argued. 

“It’s not my fault his snotty mother won’t buy him toys on every kid’s favourite day of the year!” Lily defended. “This is Harry’s big day!”

“Little guy was just hungry,” James whispered from behind them, drawing their attention to Joel, who was shoving cupcakes into his mouth one after another.

Lily’s eyes narrowed. “Are those the cupcakes I baked this morning?” She ground out.

“Lily, look at him, he’s adorable!” James squealed, picking Joel up and wiping the chocolate from his face with the bottom of his own shirt.

Lily rounded on Sirius. “You know I don’t like kids!” She hissed.

“You like Harry!” Sirius said, “Can’t you just, I don’t know, add him to the set? At least until Christmas is over, I mean, this is the one time he’s stopped crying in the week I had him!”

“Thanks-you Mr. Potta!”

Everybody turned to Joel, who only looked at James Potter. “I didn’t know he could talk,” Sirius whispered

James smiled. “You’re welcome little fella. You wanna go sit beside Remus?”

“Moony?” The toddler babbled. “Big wolf?”

James grinned. “Yeah, big wolf,” he said as he bent down and let the toddler loose, free to cause mass destruction as he pleased.

After the tot was out of ear shot, he spoke. “I think he should stay.”

“What?” Lily said.

“Joel’s been nothing but polite to me since he got here, and you’re being outright mean to him. I mean, Lily Pad, if the kid can talk he can definitely hear you,” James reasoned, shaking his head. “Besides, I might not be used to this whole Christmas thing, but isn’t it about giving and children?”

Lily paused, then nodded. “You’re right, she realized, “You’re totally right, I’m sorry.” 

“You’re just stressed, honey,” James reminded her, pulling her in fo a hug before pulling away to look at Sirius. “Anyway, as long as they haven’t hurt anyone I care about, any member of the Black family is welcome in my home - any child is, for that matter.” 

Sirius smiled, picking James up and squeezing him like a teddy bear. Slowly, Lily peaked around the corner to see Remus standing on several chairs stacked precariously on top of each other to place the star on top of the tree as Joel and Harry sat on the ground below playing with an empty box for one of the toys they’d bought Harry. Joel decorated the walls of the ‘house’ while Harry tried, and failed, to bite holes in the cardboard despite having a total of three teeth.

“Oh shit!” With one false move one of the chair legs gave out and the tree toppled over to fall on top of Harry and Joel, Remus with it, still holding the star. 

Lily jumped into action, James and Sirius rushing around the corner to stop the madness. But, curiously, before any of them could utter a spell, the Christmas tree was tilted back up, star and all - all broken ornaments fit together and placed back on the tree, Remus landing gracefully on his feet while the chairs toppled over lamely onto the floor.

Remus looked sheepishly at Lily, who didn’t have time to muster a glare as she scooped her only child up into her arms and wept. “Oh my god, he’s okay!” She cried, James joining her in cooing over their son.

Sirius grinned. “‘Atta boy! That was some strong accidental magic right there, Harry may very well be the next Dumbledore!” 

Remus spoke up, earning a glare from Lily that he ignored. “Uh, Sirius?”

“Yeah?” Sirius answered, still high from the feeling of seeing his godson do magic for the first time.

“Harry’s magical core won’t even develop for another one or two years...” Remus trailed off, eyes wandering to the toddler who hummed as he drew flowers on the box on the floor. 

Slowly, one by one, everyone turned to Joel, who scanned them all with wide, confused eyes, finally resting his gaze on Harry, and then Lily, who was holding her baby close. “Bah-by O.K.?” The child asked, concerned.

“Oh no,” Sirius whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought this chapter was going to have no plot significance, huh?
> 
> Side note: I wanna see your questions, theories, and concerns in the comments! I try to answer as many as I can :)


	6. The Night That Started It All Pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh part 2 is finally up!!!! Hey everybody! I decided to post this chapter now un-beta-read because my beta is currently on vacation, so I'll make any necessary changes later - not that I expect to need a lot of them. Still hope you enjoy it :). This chapter is kind of more of a character chapter than a plot chapter, but I figured since the next few chapters are going to be more plot focused I'd get some bonding in now. Oh, and if you haven't noticed, I fixed the spacing of the paragraphs because I knew that was bugging a lot of you - damn conversion from docs to ao3!
> 
> Oh, and this chapter has trigger warnings for brief torture - I tried to keep it pretty tame, but y'know, the story comes first and all that. Love ya'll!

“Joel, wait!” Dudley yelled from behind him, about half a block back and struggling to keep up. Joel turned towards the strangled sound to see Dudley running up to him, still coatless from the party and hands in his armpits.   


“What!” Joel hissed, the left side of his face stung from where the cold wind beat it into submission, feet pricked with pins and needles in his thin sneakers. It was snowing. Why is it always snowing?   


Dudley stopped to heave, regaining his breath before looking up at Joel and going silent. “Are you... Crying?” He asked quietly, flinching at Joel’s glare - his fading injuries from when he mugged that kid still remembered what Joel was capable of.   


“No.” Joel ground out, wiping at his face. “It’s the wind making my eyes water.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Dudley asked tentatively. He was trying.   


Joel froze, as if turned to ice by the cold. He rubbed his fingers. “I. Ain’t. Gay!” He grumbled again in warning.   


“Listen,” Dudley paused, as if trying to sort out what to say. “I’m new to all this fag- to all this gay shit, I’ll admit it. I have no idea why you guys would want to...” he trailed off after Joel’s glare. “Right, back on topic. I just... Harry’s not that bad a bloke, honestly. I don’t get why my parents hate ‘im so much, don’t get why I hated him so much. But... he would never do something like that,” Dudley shook his head. “Just not ‘im.”   


“Well,  _ obviously _ , he did!” Joel yelled, turning around and punching a tree so hard his knuckles almost broke under the pressure. “Go away, or I’ll give you a beating to remember,” he threatened.   


Every part of Dudley told him to move back, but instead a voice told him to stay, to move forward. Placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder tentatively. “I used to lash out like you do, hurt people all the time.”   


Joel turned, throwing Dudley’s hand off. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he said sarcastically.   


“No, it’s true!” Dudley insisted. “I used to want to be just like my dad, you know. Walk around like I owned the place, make people afraid to cross me - have someone cook all my meals and clean up after my messes. I thought that was what normal people were like, once. I thought that’s how relationships were supposed to work.”   


Joel pulled out two cigarettes from his pocket and placed one in his mouth, Dudley leaning out to light it for him. Joel bristled at the kindness. “And then?” He asked.   


“And then, I met Elaine,” his eyes sparkled.   


Joel raised an eyebrow. “Elaine?” He laughed, tasting the name with his ugly voice. Still, elegance peeked through the layer of depravity his mixed accent and crackling breath gave it. He took a puff of his cigarette and handed the unlit one off to to Dudley.   


“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Dudley chimed, lighting his cigarette and taking a long puff.   


“You’re kidding me!” Joel laughed.   


Dudley didn’t seem to care just how funny Joel found it. “No, I’m not - and wicked smart too. She’s a genius, really. She deserves to be at the academy more than I do, that’s for sure. At least her parents didn’t have to buy her way in.”   


“Is she hot too?” Joel asked, curious now as he lent back against the tree.   


“Oh, she wasn’t always, but she is  _ smoking _ hot. Doesn’t care much for jokes and all that but not in an uptight way, and she’s super nice. To everyone, really - she even walks around during her break just so she could help out the nerds, and everyone hated her for it.”   


Joel chuckled. “Everyone but you, I presume.”   


“At first I did,” he admitted. “I hated her all through Year 7 and 8 because she kept getting in my way, kept acting all high and mighty like she was the next Mother Teresa - but then I sort of... Stopped hating her, I guess? Started watching her and trying to talk to her, sit with her in the mess hall and the common room, and I found out that deep down she was as unsure of herself as everybody else - it was comforting,” Dudley smiled to himself. “We started dating in Year 9, kept it going all through this year, and...” He trailed off. “I met her parents last summer,” he said gravely.   


“Kid beaters, aren’t they?” Joel assumed, puffing his cigarette and waving for him to go on. Like he’d heard this story a million times before and would hear it a million more times.

“No!” Dudley said, horrified. “No, they’re perfect. They love each other and they’re kind and they love me. Her mom knitted me a scarf as a welcome to the family present, even,” Dudley defended.   


Joel shrugged, “Then what’s the problem?” He asked briskly.   


“They’re nothing like my parents.”   


Joel stopped. “Oh,” he whispered, taking one last drag of his cigarette and grinding the butt into the dirt in the heavy silence that followed.   


“Anyway, I stopped trying to impress my dad after I met the Maier’s, but I couldn’t stop myself from acting like him,” Dudley said weakly. “One day I got so pissed I punched a hole right through the common room wall and Elaine told me to go to a shrink. That’s where I realized he’s just some abusive arsehole,” Dudley said emptily, as if he were still heartbroken.   


A whole minute of silence followed before Joel spoke. “It’s ain’t our fault he’s like that,” he tried uncomfortably, placing his hand on Dudley’s shoulder. “You don’t have to feel guilty about following his example. You didn’t know any different.”   


Dudley smiled to himself. “I know,” he said. “Elaine makes me want to get better, though. Be better. Now that I do know different she makes me want to be a better man - and not just for her, for everyone. For me. And believe me, I have been trying,” he laughed.   


Joel nodded, “There has to be some sort of ulterior motive here. No way you’d spring this up on me out of the blue.”   


Dudley put his hands in his pockets. “Well, I didn’t plan on telling you quite so much,” he chuckled. “I guess my point was: I don’t know a whole lot about this whole gay thing, but I’ve seen the way you two talk to each other. Maybe you don’t  _ love ‘im _ yet or whatever, but I heard to how you talked to my parents when you came by to see him. I get the feeling you wouldn’t have bothered if it were anyone but him,” he reasoned. “There’s definitely something there.”

Joel smiled, shaking his head. “I must have called your dad an piece of shit at least 10 separate times,” he said. “He even went over to see Mrs. Dodge complain in’ about me. Earned me five lashes, he did,” he laughed.   


Dudley cringed, but tried to hide it, reminding himself that Joel lived in a very different world. “Exactly!” He reasoned instead, dropping his forgotten, eroded cigarette into the snow and crushing it down with his heel. “I haven’t known  _ the almighty Joel _ get his ass kicked for anyone, not in the past few weeks we’ve been fighting over petty shit, not in the whole summer before that. Not once.”   


Joel blushed, and Dudley almost had to do a double take. “He is... Really something,” he admitted, before snapping back to reality. “Your point?” He said sharply.   


Dudley mentally kicked himself for taking so long to get to the meat of the conversation. “My point is, if he’s your Elaine, then you should be in there right now,” he said, pointing back at the silent house.   


Joel forgot to speak for a moment, lips pressed into a hard line, jaw ground down as he clenched his teeth. At first, Dudley thought he might be angry, prepared to back away - but then he remembered. When Joel was angry, he exploded outwards, pummeling walls and trees, anyone and anything suitable to meet his wrath. Joel Lincolin, when provoked and pissed off, jumped towards the problem and kicked its ass. It was how he had been raised. But he was silent, then, and the house would have exploded if looks could kill - right off it’s foundation.

Dudley studied him for a moment in what he supposed was the way Elaine studied people, careful and guided. He took in the blood pooling under Joel’s fingernails as he clenched his fists, his shoulders up and tight, breath uneven and painful.   


Joel wasn’t angry, he was... Sad.   


“Joel?” Dudley asked tentatively.   


“Harry’s made his thoughts on the matter perfectly clear.” Joel growled lowly, still feigning anger, putting a wall up in the middle of the conversation and ending it.   


Dudley pushed forward past the wall, and it felt like entering no man’s land. “I know you haven’t known him for very long, but he’s not like that usually. He was probably just drunk. Or Sean was manipulating him. Or both,” Joel fixed him a glare that screamed drop it, that screamed that Dudley was about to earn himself another punch in the nose. But Dudley pushed harder, tried to be braver. “Did you see him up there? He was on the verge of tears!” He yelled.

“OF COURSE I SAW!” Joel shouted finally, kicking at the snow in a fit of pent up rage, Dudley drawing back in fear. “I fucked up and scared him, okay! I came on too strong and told him all about me and the things I’ve done, and he was too scared of me to tell me he wasn’t interested. That I was  _ gay  _ and he found it  _ disgusting  _ like  _ everybody  _ else.” He hissed like he was in pain, and Dudley’s heart hurt. “I’m such an fucking  _ idiot! _ ” Joel berated himself, turning and punching the tree full force, like a boxer punches a punching bag.

By the time Joel lowered his hands his knuckles were raw, bruised and bloody. The air between them was too thick for Dudley to say anything, the silence too comforting. “I didn’t even mean to ask him out when I first saw him, you know,” he whispered, and Dudley had to hold his breath to listen. “It just sort of… came out,” he admitted. “I never meant to... to stalk him, or anything. I never wanted to hurt him. He was just... I thought he was the first person in a long time to see me as something other than-“ he dropped off there and put his face in his hands, Dudley wondering what had happened as he tentatively drew closer, and as he did he heard the faint, weak sobs that escaped Joel’s mouth as he boy tried to stop them, to muffle them with his hands. All Dudley wanted to do was hug him, tell him that he didn’t have to stop himself, that it was okay to cry - but he was smarter than that. 

He’d spent months fighting against Joel Lincolin. One fight after another, two destructive forces coming together and creating chaos that would only result in destroying each other and collateral damage - all over the things they said to each other. No, Dudley was too smart to go around spouting off the first thing that came to mind when Joel had wound himself up like this. He had to choose his words carefully.

“Something other than a monster?” Dudley tried quietly, reaching out to comfort him, but Joel turned, and Dudley only received only a sharp shove in response.   


“Don’t touch me!” Joel shouted, stepping back past the beaten tree until he was a good distance away, wiping at his face. “This isn’t happening... There ain’t no way this is happening. I’m not crying right now, this is bullshit!” he yelled, “I can’t stay here,” he said finally, turning to go as fast as he could.

Dudley ran to place himself in front of him and inhaled sharply, holding his hands out to get him to stop. “Mate, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you...”   


“Didn’t want to talk about this? Bullshit!” Joel yelled, his shaking hands having nothing to do with the cold.   


Dudley spoke with careful words. “I didn’t know you were so... hurt,” he paused as Joel tensed up and went to defend himself, his mental state, but Dudley interrupted him. “Don’t jerk me around on this one, Joel. You’re really fucked up, man. I mean, like, real messed.”   


Joel chucked at that, wiping the tears from his eyes before they froze like they’d never been there, shaking his head and plastering a grin across his face. Dudley briefly wondered how many times he broke down like that and just pulled himself right back together again without fixing anything. 

“I’m sorry I punched you in the nose,” Joel grumbled after a few moments of silence, bringing Dudley back from his thoughts. “I know I told you I’m glad it broke and all but I actually... didn’t mean to hit you that hard. I kind of just blacked out,” Joel mumbled it like it was a secret that he never meant for anyone to know, tensing up into strength again. “So there, I said it.”

Dudley smiled. “Listen, mate. I sucked pretty hard too. I would’ve been friends with you sooner if I’d known you like I do now, you know. I was just mad somebody was finally calling me on my bullshit other than Elaine. I’m sorry I punched you in church, dude, it looks like it hurts,” he admitted, gesturing to the dark purple bruise on the right side of Joel’s jaw.   


Joel poked at the bruisec like he’d forgotten about it and chuckled humourlessly. “You should see the other guy.”   


It was true. Dudley’s nose had cracked and broken hard from the straight on impact, and the bandage across it that he neglected to change half the time barely covered the black bruise that covered the centre of his face, with spots of dark purple and blue at the edges. Dudley laughed. “I hit you first, remember?”   


“I hit you harder.”   


Dudley softened. “It’s okay, you know. I forgive you. I don’t think you’re some kind of delinquent that runs around hitting people for fun or anything.”   


Joel looked at the ground with a chuckle. “I wonder what Harry thinks,” he said. “ _ Apparently _ , I’m a vulture,” he joked.

Dudley crossed his arms. “Well I think Harry might not be the best judge of character, considering he acted like a total git to you earlier.”   


Joel stared at him for a long moment. “Well, maybe I deserved it,” he rationalized.

Dudley shook his head simply, but Joel, although something seemed to change in his posture, didn’t acknowledge it.   


“I thought he was like me, you know? Strong.” Joel mumbled out loud, shaking his head in confusion. “I thought he was different than the rest. It’s almost like there’s something magnetic about him, I just can’t... couldn’t stay away. I’ve only known him a few days, I get that, and this is all puppy love shit - and  _ of course _ he goes to this fancy smart-kid boarding school in Scotland and I’m stuck in Juvy. He’s smart and gentle, emotionally stable and way,  _ way _ , out of my league,” he reprimanded himself. “Meanwhile, I can’t even bring myself to leave right now because every part of me wants to go in and find out what I did wrong, even though I know damn well it’s me that’s wrong.”   


“If Elaine cursed me out like that in front of a bunch of people, I’d be heartbroken too, man,” Dudley empathized, nodding his head. “I can’t even imagine having to deal with the gay thing too.”   


Joel shook his head, at a loss for words. “One second he’s into me and everything is fine, but the second Sean gets to him he changes-“ Joel snapped his fingers “-like that. Outing me to everyone and calling me all that nasty shit, It was like-“ Joel’s expression froze, slowly turning to one of horror. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“It was like what?” Dudley asked. “What’s going on?”   


“Magic,” Joel said simply, and Dudley’s whole word exploded. “It was like magic. I’m such an idiot, I made this about me and didn’t even stop to think-“   


“Oh fuck!” Dudley shouted in horror. “What do we do? Fuck, what do we do!” He yelled, but Joel was too wrapped up in his own anger at himself to hear him. “Shit, we have to go help him! Joel, we gotta help him!” He concluded, but he was frozen to the spot, watching Joel’s sadness turn to anger and his need to protect boil over. It was like watching a star explode, engulfing everything in the immediate vicinity in flames before turning into a black hole, spiteful and bottomless but magnetic. He couldn’t look away.

“God fucking damn it!” Joel swore finally, whatever internal dilemma he had been stuck on thrown out. “Fucking wizards and their bullshit!” He yelled, throwing his hands up in the air before running back towards the party with Dudley hot on his heels.

  
  
  


 

“ _ Joel, _ ” Harry whispered under his breath when he woke up again, the cushion of a bed underneath him his only solace in the spinning room. He groaned, still unable to see past the cloud in his mind even after the Imperius Curse released him. “ _ Sirius, ‘Mione. _ ” He slurred desperately.  _ Where was his wand? _

“Keep it comin’,” Sean laughed, pulling a chair out from the desk and laying across it like an egyptian prince, puffing on his cigarette. “Who’ll pay the most for ya, out of all of your lil’ friends. Can ya tell me that?”

Harry rocked his head from side to side just to feel the centre of gravity move, and didn’t answer.

“Um, ‘Arry?” Sean stifled a laugh, reaching out to shake his limp leg.

Harry looked up at Sean and grinned to himself, all of the heat in his body rushing to flush his face. “Yea?”

Sean narrowed his eyes. “Ya think this is all a big joke, huh?” He stood, grabbing his gun from his waistband and walking towards him. Harry stiffened as he snapped back to reality, and in Sean’s mouth all he could hear was Vernon’s words.  _ “You think this is funny, huh?”  _ Vernon’s voice echoed in the back of his brain, tears coming to his eyes and body tensing.  _ “Don’t lie to me!” _

Harry pulled at his hands and felt the rope holding them to the bed frame tear itself into his wrists and blood drip down his arms. His body filled with adrenaline as he thrashed, but the harsh fibers of the rope tore deeper into his flesh and the pain paralyzed him. Every move, every breath hurt, every struggle another tear against his exposed wound. It brought tears to his eyes.

“I should have warned ya not to fight back,” Sean hummed, rubbing the cold metal of his pistol against his thigh, finger on the trigger. Harry froze. “That there is magical rope, it’s illegal for a reason ya know. I bought it in Knockturn Alley before Hogwarts dumped me on St Brutus’. Poachers use it to catch magical creatures all the time. Every time ya struggle it digs into yer skin and gets tighter.”

Harry’s eyes widened, paralyzed by the rope and stricken with instant fear. “Why are you doing this?” He whispered, painfully aware of the cold metal dragging itself up his body and to his neck, the barrel making its way under his chin, pointed straight up into his skull.

Sean ignored him, the fear that froze Harry seeming to bring a smile to his eyes. “My daddy was a smuggler, ya know,” Sean said conversationally. “A damn good one too. Sometimes, he would bring me on ‘is huntin’ missions. Make me tie dem animals up when he thought me mum was babyin’ me too much and make me watch ‘em squirm when they woke up, cryin’ out until finally they learned not to move,” Sean standing up to walk around the room, gun in hand as he paced absentmindedly. “I learned to like it, before then I would see ‘em and feel bad… let ‘em go sometimes,” he admitted, walking over to the bed and placing the gun down on the nightstand - much to Harry’s relief.

“But watchin’ all them animals fight and fight and then just… stop?” He confessed as he pulled the chair up beside him backwards, sitting with the back of it between his legs and leaning forward onto the bed to look Harry in the eyes. “Felt real good, ‘ventually,” Sean admitted passively, as if it were all normal. “Then, me dad said I was enjoyin’ me punishments too much. Had me doin’ all the grunt work, obviously. Rippin’ out teeth and claws, breakin’ off ‘orns and antlers.”

Harry shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Sean. I can get you help. Real help.”

Sean almost considered the words for a second, but in the end his psychotic brain pushed them away, the words blowing through him like wind. “I wonder what I’ll get to do to ya, before yer friends pay up and come to take ya away. Wonder ‘ow many bones I’ll crush, ‘ow many teeth I’ll tear out. What it’ll take to break  _ the  _ ‘arry Potter.”

Harry sobbed, terrified. Without a wand, he was useless, he realized in that moment. Just some scared kid out of his depth. He had no protection, no friends, no weapon, no army of adults coming to his rescue. It was just him, tearing at the ropes that bound him again only for them to dig into flesh and bring a scream from his lungs. “Somebody help me!” He shouted, kicking at the bed despite the ropes tightening around his wrists, digging into muscle.

“Silencing charm on the house, dipshit. Party broke up ‘alf an hour ago, nobody’s gonna hear ya,” he paused. “Yer goin’ to hit an artery if ya don’t quit it,” Sean poked with a laugh. He was enjoying this, and it hurt Harry in his soul. Someone enjoyed seeing him like this - he would never get that out of his head, didn’t matter if he lived one more day or forty years. 

“You need me alive,” Harry grunted, stilling as the pain and fear paralyzed his body. He’d never felt so trapped, not even under the Cruciatus Curse, when his body spasmed outside of his control. At least he wasn’t trapped in his head, then.

“Folks’ll pay half as much for ya dead than if ya were alive, yeah,” Sean grinned, “But just like my daddy taught me: if the animal makes it more work than it’s worth? Just take the head price - wonder ‘ow much that Dark fucker will pay for yer body. Want to find out with me?”

Harry froze up, his whole body relenting to his fate. The warm blood that dripped down his arms began to dry in dark red flakes, and his mind left him to avoid the pain of breathing for a second longer.

“Ahhh… there it is,” Sean whispered, a tone of wonder in his voice, eyes wide with excitement. “Ya just realized there ain’t no way out of this one, didn’t ya? That there’s no choice but to submit or beg for yer life. That look in yer eyes makes me giddy, ya know,” Sean rambled, but Harry did nothing but cry.

After a few more minutes of silence Sean spoke again, growing bored. “You’ve been in those ropes for at least 15 minutes now, it’s real impressive ya lasted that long,” He babbled on, Harry too scared to make a sound.

It was another few minutes before he spoke again, the older man leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Took Joel a whole of a half-an-hour, wouldn’t ya know,” he whispered before he pulled back to grin. Harry’s eyes darted to him, horrified: that had got his attention. “I told ‘im not to struggle before then, obviously, so he had an unfair ‘vantage over ya. Still, he was so small back then, just a poor, helpless muggle - but he ‘ad a mouth on ‘im. Stole my pencil right off me desk, ya know that?” Harry’s eyes widened.  _ The pencil incident _ . He came back to reality, in and out of the real world and his head.

“All it took was a few hard shoves to tie ‘im up.” Sean exclaimed to Harry’s horror, stroking the ropes with his fingertips. “I was just itchin’ for that look ya ‘ave now. Poor thing didn’t move a muscle after the first bit of strugglin’, after the ropes broke skin. Too stubborn to give in to the urge to struggle away from the pain, I ‘suppose - or too scared of the ropes,” Sean said maliciously. “Either way, I spent that half-an-hour havin’ some fun with my lighter.” He grinned, and Harry’s mouth fell open, eyes widened.

“Oh, he didn’t tell ya?” Sean laughed. “Me and my mates spent that time burnin’ away ‘is leg hair,” a sharp exhale left Harry’s lungs, something grabbing at his heart. “Then, ‘is armpits,” Sean stopped to chuckle at the memory. “‘Ventually, we got to his pubic hair. Kept goin’ ‘till he couldn’t stop ‘imself anymore, beggin’ us to stop, thrashin’ at them ropes,” Sean pointed to the ropes that held his wrists, and Harry suddenly felt very sick. Who could do that? Who could smile like that while describing what was essentially torture? Bile rose to his mouth and he swallowed it down, forcing himself to look at Sean.

“What are you going to do to me?” Harry whispered, shaking so violently he felt the ropes ripped at his skin again.

Sean smiled maliciously. “Anything I want.”

There was a knock at the door and Sean drew his wand sharply, all trace of maniacal banter gone. He rose and walked to the door, muttering something to himself about unexpected visitors. Harry raised his head slightly, heart fluttering as warm blood dripped down his arms once again.  _ Joel. _ His mind screamed from outside his body, his head falling wordlessly back down onto the pillow, relief numbing him. He could tell it was him before Sean had stopped muttering, before he could hear him.  _ Joel is here _ . Harry thought tiredly. He could feel Joel’s presence on the other side of the door, calling to him, telling him that the pain was over - he’d come to protect him.  _ Joel is here, and everything is going to be okay now.  _ He thought before his mind left entirely, safe somewhere far away.

  
  
  
  


Joel leant against the door, hearing Sean’s muttering on the other side. “He’s in here,” Joel whispered to Dudley, who took several deep breaths. “If he has a gun, get it from him and empty the chamber as quick as you can,” he whispered. “Remember, this is for Harry.”

Dudley nodded, shaking the nerves off and staying silent when Sean came to the door.

“Who’s there?” The older boy sang, muffled from the other side, a sort of ringing in his voice.  _ Oh great, he’s gone full psycho.  _ Joel thought, shivering at the memory.  _ Poor Harry. _

“It’s me,” Joel said back with a bit of meekness. “I don’t wanna bother you or nothin’, I just want that gift you promised me, so I can stop selling on your turf? Now a good time?” He asked.

Sean began to unlock the door, muttering something about stupid muggles as he did so - but the second he swung it open Dudley was on him, both of them crashing right into the wall behind Sean with a cracking noise and a loud wailing. Joel tore his eyes from Harry’s face for just enough time to see the broken halves of wood on the floor, Sean yelling as Dudley slammed him back into the wall. “My wand!” He shouted. “My wand!”

Joel turned again, bolting to Harry’s side and surveying the damage, his heart breaking.  _ He did this _ . If he hadn’t been so self absorbed, he would have known sooner and Harry wouldn’t be staring at the ceiling, eyes open and body shaking, chest rising but his soul gone. His eyes darted to Harry’s wrists, caked in red blood that dripped steadily down his arms. The cuts didn’t look too deep, not deep enough for him to be in serious danger if the pressure of the ropes wasn’t on them - but they were deep enough to hurt. Bad. His breath hitched as he surveyed the blood stains of the fibers, the texture - and he started to tremble.  _ Those ropes.  _ He shook his head, pulling his lighter from his pocket.

“Joel?” Harry asked hoarsely, tired but no longer frightened. “Where did I go? What is that?” He began to panic when he saw the lighter, eyes filling with tears.

“Did he…” Joel began, but shook it off. “The rope is crazy dry, it’ll burn to ash faster than it can burn you,” Joel explained quickly, lighting it and leaning down.

Harry trashed again, the ropes digging deeper into his skin. “Please don’t!” He yelled, shaking.

“Harry, we don’t have time for this!” Joel yelled back, heart breaking again at Harry’s flinch. “Do you trust me?” He asked desperately instead, eyeing the fight on the other side of the room, watching as Dudley started to lose.

Harry seemed to think for a moment, as if he couldn’t decide who to trust anymore. “Yes,” he said after a few tense seconds of debate, and Joel lit the ropes on fire. There was a moment of heat, but they burned away as promised, leaving only raw, bleeding wounds where they had once gripped Harry’s wrists. Joel could hear his cry of relief as the boy stared at his bleeding wounds, dimly aware of the pain.

Joel turned, and Dudley was on the floor - Sean running towards him. “Roll under the bed!” Joel said, and Harry obeyed. As quickly as it was done Joel turned and tackled Sean to the spot where Harry once was, both of them struggling against each other until Sean rolled on top, grabbing the gun from the nightstand and pointing it directly at Joel’s head.

A full moment passed where all hope was lost. Joel was going to die, Dudley laid on the floor staring in horror, breath knocked out of him. Harry closed his eyes under the bed, sure from the silence they’d lost.

Then, Sean flew clean through the air and cleared at least ten feet, hitting the wall on the other side of the room with a slam that sent him right through the drywall. The force knocked him unconscious on the floor, the room silent and tense. Dudley stood up slowly in shock, staring at the hole in the wall in horrified curiosity as he stepped through it, only remembering to grab the gun from Sean’s limp hands as an afterthought.

“Holy shit,” Joel whispered, sitting up on the bed. A loud, ringing sound replaced the world’s sound and the familiarity sent a shiver down his spine. He hadn’t heard ringing this loud since…

He thought his powers had given up after almost a decade of pushing them down, of pretending they had never existed. Awoken from dormancy, his magic ran through his veins like fire, electricity making his hands staticky and twitchy. As if it were greeting him, like an old friend.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Harry asked from beside him as he rolled out from underneath the bed, truly terrified and snapping Joel out of his adrenaline in earnest. “Fuck, you’re a muggle! Please don’t be scared. I know it’s all confusing - I didn’t even know I could do that if I’m being honest,” Harry half-chuckled, rambling as he ran his hands through his hair and pulled himself onto the bed, kneeling in between Joel’s legs and pulling him in for a hug. 

Joel stilled at the touch, neither pulling away or reciprocating. “You must be so freaked out right now, I’m so sorry. It’s not usually like this, it’s not usually so terrifying, I promise. It’s magical and fun and - oh my god, I’m so sorry I was such an idiot,” Harry sobbed into Joel’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I brought this on you, you don’t deserve this,” Harry said, holding him closer.

Joel shook his head gently, but didn’t speak as Dudley looked through the hole in the wall, from Sean’s unconscious body to him, piecing it together from the look on Joel’s face. He stared at Joel in awed silence for a moment, looking from Harry to him in a frantic gesture. Joel slowly brought his hands up to Harry’s back, getting lost in the warmth under his fingertips, staring back in silent request.  _ He’s so scared. Please don’t make him scared of me too. _

Dudley lent back on his heels, clicking his tongue quietly and giving a slow, knowing nod, before taking one last look at Sean’s unconscious body and leaving the other room through its open door all together. Presumably in search of more of that rope.

Harry sobbed harder in that moment, leaning further into Joel’s chest in search of comfort he couldn’t provide. Harry needed  _ comforting  _ not  _ him _ . Joel’s stomach flipped guiltily and he swallowed his panic, fighting the urge to call Dudley back, slowly caressing Harry’s tense shoulders with terrified apprehension. In a spur of the moment decision, Joel began to rub Harry’s muscles gently, massaging them in what he hoped was a soothing motion.

After a minute or so of that Harry seemed to relax, body shaking with now-silent sobs. “I was so scared,” Harry whispered finally, tears in his voice. “I was so scared that he would do whatever he wanted to me until there was nothing left of me, Joel. I thought he might kill me. I thought you weren’t going to come for me, and then I thought you were going to die and there was nothing I could do about any of it. Nothing,” he sobbed, body turning into a shaking, heaving mess again. "It was like... It was like it was happening all over again. People were going to die - you were going to die, and I couldn't help. _Again_."

Joel felt a something grip his core, gathering Harry up and pulling him in tight. His hands moved tentatively downwards on Harry’s back, silent and unsure of what to do or say as he tried to ground the boy in his arms, rubbing his back until the sobbing slowly stopped, coming out in bursts and before dying down altogether, turning into deep, relaxed breaths over time. For a moment, Joel thought Harry was asleep.

_ This is enough,  _ Harry tried to say, tried to to satiate Joel’s tense anxiety about the whole situation as he pushed further into his chest. Tried to say it through the hands that made their way to his hair. The older boy stilled a moment as the digits combed through his curls slowly, just barely touching his scalp. The gentle kindness scared Joel, deep in him where he thought the part of him that could get scared was buried. His breath hitched and heart raced in his chest so fast Harry could feel it against his, their bodies pressed together so tightly in a silent effort to be closer, to share in each other’s warmth. Harry buried his face in the crook of Joel’s neck.  _ You are enough,  _ He tried to say.

Joel gave in to the affection slowly, like how the sea turns rock to sand with time. Warily, he rested his head on Harry’s shoulder as he thought about all the things Sean could have done to Harry if he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t barged in just in time or if he realized too late. As he thought about all the things Sean did to  _ him  _ because no one had been there. Tears stung at his eyes and he blinked them away still, held them back firmly until they disappeared, no matter how many times Harry’s gentle fingertips brushed against his skin. 

He tried to push himself away once, twice, three times. Struggled and fought with himself on if he should push Harry off of him and yell at him until he never wanted to touch him or show him kindness ever again, tried to convince himself he was taking advantage of a trauma victim. That he was a  _ monster  _ for enjoying this. But Harry understood, he patiently held Joel like Joel held him, tracing gentle circles in his back and scalp until he finally relaxed, resigned to Harry and his affection. Not too much, not too little.

_ I’m here,  _ Joel tried to say through the gentle rubs and caresses, despite his gritted teeth and his stubborn mouth that couldn’t think of anything good to say for the life of him. Couldn’t think of any words to describe what he felt except:  _ I’m here, and everything is going to be okay now. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the drama - the angst - the comfort - the love! I really enjoyed writing a more emotionally complex (cough* cough* broken) side of Joel in this chapter, thanks to it being mostly in Dudley and his' POV. Dug into some of Harry's issues about helplessness too, which we see around this time in the books - but mostly I'm just glad I got to write a classic rescue scene between our favourite boys! Also sorry about Sean, he wasn't originally such a dick.
> 
> Oh - and quick note. Sometime after this is uploaded, when I find the time, I'll be changing up the summary and the tags since I've decided to go in kind of a different direction than when I originally posted the prologue. Not a whole lot is going to change, I've just decided to do a little bit of a makeover.
> 
> Comments and kudos are my fuel :) thank you all for reading and enjoying my story! I really am flattered. I'll likely have the next chapter up within February, so buckle up!


	7. Stillness and Motion Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of short, sorry! I wanted to have a chapter devoted to Harry's emotions after Sean and the trauma of that situation, as well as the thoughts that surround his decision to go with Joel. I hope you enjoy it! I've been really sick for the past few days, so I ended up having the time to finish it early - and the nice comments I got on the last chapter certainly had a lot to do with my writing speed.

Have you ever experienced an event, a conversation, a person, so out of place it feels like a monster or a morally-indignant deity has plucked you from one story into another? As if the person you once were, the reality you knew, is just gone?

All you’re left with, laying awake and breathless in the dark of your bedroom, is a cold, aching feeling in your chest that feels a lot like homesickness and the understanding that the story that you’ve seen, read, _lived_ a million times is gone forever, clear as water. The world keeps spinning and spinning while you stay still, removed, and yet nobody is dizzy but you - like you’ve just been spun all your life and now you’re spit out of the ride and onto the cool grass, wet with dew and spilling your guts with motion sickness.

Harry Potter had already thrown up twelve times, he counted, sitting on the steps of Sean’s house completely still. His eyes scanned the identical houses one by one, unsure of which ones he had already studied and which ones he’d never spared a glance towards before, the people new and frightening with their complicated lives and performances, the people he saw through the windows and the people on the street who he recognized as the same but could never be quite sure. Lights came on and turned off. Men left for work in their suits and ties, kissing their wives goodbye and then leaving them barefoot in the doorway to shoot Harry dirty looks and strange glances of fear and curiosity. _I guess I should be getting home soon_ , Harry thought, and didn’t move.

“You should go inside, it’s cold,” a woman shouted from across the street after a staring contest that could have lasted minutes or hours.  _Is it?_ Harry thought, and picked up some snow from beside him and rubbing it in between his fingers, but he felt nothing but water, shards of crystal, and his own fingertips. _It’s not even dawn yet, it must be freezing out here_ , he agreed anyway. The woman continued to stare at him first from the doorway, then from the windows, but soon gave up on him to tend to her own children.

A heavy weight settled over Harry’s shoulders and he jumped, looking up to see Joel staring sheepishly down at him - his sweater gone, large tank top hanging loosely around his lean frame. Did he always have so many tattoos? One arm was caked in ink, like a black and white tapestry of cowboys and doves and words, all the stars in the sky and all of the animals in the forest hiding in his skin. The other arm pale, empty except for a calendar up on his shoulder. Ink that spelled words peeked out from underneath the tank top that covered the place where his heart was, but Harry couldn’t read them. Harry pulled Joel’s sweater tighter around him. Since when was there so much of everything?

“Checking me out, are you?” Joel laughed awkwardly, settling down beside him. He didn’t speak another word for five minutes, just sitting beside Harry.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Joel turned to look at him, caught off guard. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Harry kicked some of the snow off the steps and onto the walkway, clearing the packed ice and snow to reveal the stone underneath. “I didn’t mean to show you magic. I didn’t mean to complicate everything,” he leaned his head into his hands. “There’s some things a muggle just shouldn’t see, and now we’re both going to be in shit because of it.”

Joel shook his head, and looked straight ahead. “Oh, I thought you were apologizing for something else,” he chuckled, and Harry’s attention perked. “I mean… Don’t get me wrong, the whole magic thing is fucked up and I want nothing to do with it,” he admitted, “but the truth is, I already knew-” He turned to Harry, who stared at him with wide, confused eyes, and softened his voice into a murmur. “I already knew what I was getting into when I first saw you, if that makes sense.”

Harry nodded, and silence overtook them - but a nagging voice in Harry’s head wouldn’t shut up. “Did you think I was apologizing for Sean?” Joel sighed, but Harry kept going. “I was stupid. I never should have gone with him, you told me to stay away. You _warned_ me he was dangerous, and I-”

“Did you mean the things you said?”

Harry stared at Joel, in shock at being interrupted. “Well, I-”

Joel’s hands were shaking, and he shoved them in his armpits under the guise of keeping warm. “Before I came back. Am I… taking advantage of you?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. “No,” he whispered.

Joel shook his head. “No, Harry, I need you to think about this like I am. I need you to think about the time I came into your life and the things I’ve done, the person I am and the people that I hang out with. I need you to think about what your folks do to you-” Harry cringed “and I need you to think about how vulnerable you are. I could be rescuing you from one abusive situation and bringing you into another - oh my god, you could just be desperate for someone that treats you like a person. I could be a monster, I could be forcing a damaged, abused, scared, desperate kid to associate with me out of necessity. That’s the _definition_ of taking advantage of you.”

Harry thought for a moment, thought about Joel and the flames and screams, of St Brutus’ and Sirius’ voice.  _He’s a monster!_ Harry thought of the cold, and Sean. Then he thought about Stand By Me, and Joel stepping in front of a snarling dog. _Do you trust me?_ Joel’s voice echoed back in Sean’s bedroom, lighter lit in front of him and pleading eyes, those eyes that welled with tears as Harry hurled name after name at him at the party. _Are you sure? You really feel that way?_ He kept hearing Joel ask, over and over, as if he’d looked into Harry’s eyes and knew deep down that there was a different person underneath.

Decision made, Harry moved to gently grab Joel’s hand, slowly, in fear of being rejected. “Well, thank god you’re not.” He smiled, and Joel looked at him in silence as if he’d just been given the passcode to a safe that contained a million pounds.

“Then why did you say it?” Joel whispered skeptically, suddenly unable to meet Harry’s eyes. “Why would you say it if it wasn’t true?”

“Well…” Harry paused. “Have you ever heard of an Imperius Curse?”

 

“So you’re telling me that there’s this guy named Voldemort, and you’ve been fighting him since sixth grade?”

Harry laughed, settling deeper into Sean’s couch downstairs. The living room looked smaller now that it wasn’t crowded with party goers, plastic cups and bottles littering the ground like the snow outside. “ _First year_ ,” he corrected, “when I started Hogwarts. I’ve gone toe to toe with him pretty much every April and June since - and solved the mystery of how to get there since the September before. It’s pretty much the same drill every time.”

Joel shook his head. “Okay, so: at your school for _magic_ , where you study as a _wizard_ with your friends, you defeat an _evil overlord_ every year? And he wants to kill you because he killed your parents?”

“He wants to kill me because he failed the first time when he used the killing curse on me as a baby, which ended up killing him. My parents were just… extra, I guess,” Harry shivered. _Kill the spare_ , he heard, and then laughter.

“Okay, I think I’m getting it…” Joel said, staring off into space before looking back at Harry. “Oh my god, we should make a movie about you life! I bet it’d win an Oscar or something! The Triwizard Tournament, giant snakes, rocks that grant you eternal life, goblins, Gringotts, god - Hagrid? A half giant, half wizard? We’d make millions!”

Harry shook his head. “Already thought about it. It would break the Statute of Secrecy and get me thrown in Azkaban for life… the same law I just broke by telling you all this,” he muttered, and Joel’s expression fell.

“Oh yeah, _that_ ,” Joel reached over and held Harry’s hand tentatively, leaning in to whisper. “Don’t you ever get tired of it, though? Just want to be done with magic forever? I mean, what if you hurt somebody?”

“Like I hurt Sean?”

Joel nodded briefly, “I mean, not exactly that, but yeah I guess.”

“Well…” Harry paused. “Sean deserved it, I’m not really scared of my magic - I love it. It’s like I got this whole new world where I belong,” Harry squeezed Joel’s hand. “But, I do get sick of the people. Not all of them, obviously, I love my friends and the Weasley’s and Sirius and Remus - but the media. The constant attention, always having to put my life on the line to save everybody else because even after all the people I’ve saved _no one_ believes me when I tell them they’re in danger. Like what happened this year, with Umbridge and the Ministry not believing Voldemort is back. It’s like a personal hell.”

“What about your Aunt and Uncle?”

Harry chuckled. “Every September I show up with bruises having lost at least forty pounds, and nobody asks why. Nobody bothers to know. They just keep sending me back there every summer. Sirius is supposed to come get me in a few hours - but how long am I going to be safe after that? Sometimes I feel like Dumbledore fully expects me to fight for him the rest of my life, sometimes I’m scared that when I turn 17, if I’m in the same place I am now, he’ll never let me go.” Harry held his breath, scared if he opened his mouth again more of his real feelings would spill out without his permission.

Joel nodded his head. “I remember that feeling,” he whispered, and Harry stared at him.

“I don’t think you understand… I’m a prisoner in my own life. Hell, I can’t even take a shit without the Order knowing about it,” he ground out, angrier than he thought he would be.

“I knew someone once.”

“Once?” Harry asked, curious now.

Joel sighed, resigned to the conversation he’d started and kicking himself for saying the wrong thing. “I was in a relationship with somebody, and they were kind of nuts-o. It started small, first they cut up my passport.” His voice sounded far away.

Harry squeezed Joel’s hand again, and Joel seemed to come back to reality.

“Then I got my driver's license and they broke it in half and put a boot on the car I bought that only they had the key to. I moved in with them completely, and they made me drop out of school. Kept all the phones in the house locked in a storage closet and broke the TV,” Joel smiled to himself. “Then they gave me this walkman for my birthday,” he gestured to his walkman, “with some pre-approved tapes and I thought: maybe he does actually love me? What if this is just what love is?” Harry held his breath.

There was a few more moments of silence, and then Joel regained his composure. “One morning, they sent me out for a pack of cigarettes. When I got back, they told me that that was the last time I’d leave the house,” Joel admitted, and Harry almost choked. Joel pulled his hand away and lit a cigarette as Harry wandered across the room to the booze shelf, pouring them both a glass of whatever was closest. “They boarded up the windows and exits, even the fire escape, only leaving the front door open but with multiple different locks that needed multiple different keys that they kept in their room - and even if I got to them it would take at least fifteen minutes to open it, and I’d be caught. Even then, part of me didn’t want to leave. I was scared of a life without them. That was the start of my imprisonment there, and it lasted years.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, just handed him a drink and sat beside him. He reached up to run a hand through Joel’s hair, gently swirling the strands around his fingers and running his fingertips along his scalp. Joel’s shoulders relaxed and he held the glass to his lips, tipping it up and swallowing the booze in one big gulp. Then, he laid down across the couch, head on Harry’s lap looking up at him.  “A boiled frog,” Harry whispered, the thought devastating his mind, warping his reality, his life - his story.

Joel nodded again. “It got worse,” he said. “I could have left but I stayed, and it got worse. No matter what I did, how many demands I met, it got worse.”

Harry thought first of being tied to Sean’s bed, the ropes digging into his skin, and rubbed the bandages on his wrists already soaked through with blood. He thought of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley and the cupboard, thought of the Order watching him 24/7 and never putting a stop to the abuse he knew they saw the first time Tonks had evaded his eyes. He thought of Sirius locked away in Azkaban, and then in Grimmauld Place, imprisoned in his own home. Then he thought of James and Lily Potter invaded his senses, locked inside Godric's Hollow while the world kept spinning and spinning outside their walls. Like pigs in a pen at a slaughterhouse. “So?” Harry whispered.

Joel met his eyes and moved Harry’s hand from his scalp and cupped it in-between his will all his usual tenderness that he seemed to reserve for Harry. “I want you to know that you don’t have to be a prisoner anymore, you can choose to live your own life, like I did. You can let the adults handle Voldemort like they're supposed to and escape and live your life as a person instead of a martyr.”

Harry blinked a few times. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m going home, Harry.” Joel averted his eyes. “I’m leaving tonight to go to New York, and I want you to come with me. At least until you find a life of your own, that is.”

Harry thought of the life Joel described, being forced to live as a prisoner until Voldemort killed him. Or, if he killed Voldemort, he thought of the media afterwards - he pictured himself trying to carve a life for himself after everything was said and done, a husk of the person he once was, crawling back to Dumbledore for his every need.  _A boiled frog_ , he thought.

Joel pulled off of Harry’s lap, grabbing his sweater from the armrest of the couch and pulling it on quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just… no, it’s a dumb idea, it was creepy and-”

Harry’s jaw clenched and his gaze hardened. “No,” he said, and Joel turned to him. “You’re right… I can’t believe it, you’re right about all of it.”

“So you mean..?” Joel started, hopeful.

“Yeah,” Harry said, and his world started to spin. Old story burned away, new story begun. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could you tell I was trying out a new author voice? It's really different as I've had a lot of practice lately, so let me know if you love or hate it - I'm hoping it's an improvement! Remember, comments are my fuel! Next chapter will be more plot related, and I hope to have it out soon... Love ya'll :)


	8. Important Update - Doing it Right

Hello everybody! Thank you for reading Harry Potter and the Indigo Child so far. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have.

I’m making this update to state, formally, that this Camp Nanowrimo I’ll be writing this entire fanfiction again start to finish. This project is way more serious and means significantly more to me than my other works on this account, and as such I want to give it the gold star treatment.

I get this feeling that this story, as is, is doomed to mediocrity, even though I know I could do it justice if I did it properly. It’s frustrating knowing that this story could be great when right now it’s just... not. Its frustrating seeing almost 2000 people read something I wrote and have a reaction that pretty much amounts to “meh”, and those “mehs” drown out the encouraging comments I do get. And sure, a lot of this is just in my head. Obviously there’s no malicious intent on your end, and at the end of the day this is all just fun - but still, I want to give you guys the story you deserve, and this story the writing it deserves.

So: I’ve decided to treat it like a novel.

I’m going to finish a concrete first draft of this fanfiction, put it through beta reading and vigorous editing, and then at the end of this process I’m going to update this work with a link to the new work on a separate account dedicated to it.

Here’s the timeline I’m thinking:

June: Finding Betas and Fanfiction Reviewers interested in an ARC

July (Camp Nano): Finishing the 0 Draft

August Week 1: Edit to 1st Draft Level

August Week 2-3: Beta Reading and Editing x3

August Week 4: Final Comb Through and Edit

September 3rd: Send out ARCS to Interested Reviewers 

Release Date: September 20th

That being said, if there are any beta readers out there interested in this project or fanfiction reviewers interested in receiving an ARC, please contact me at mrryderhyde@gmail.com or DM Tumblr @ryderhyde.

Thank you for your support - I hope to speak to many of you soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I got some DMs on Tumblr about what kind of comment to leave on my fics, like what I find offensive and what I don't and whatnot, so I just want to say: Comments are my fuel. Long or short, constructive criticism or just a few kind words, corrections or praise, mean or kind - I love 'em all! I am also totally not offended by Kudos and I appreciate them just as much as comments, I don't understand why some people are or where people got the idea that I would be? I just get so happy knowing my dumb story made somebody else feel something :) love ya'll!
> 
> -Eden


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